


Pickle Juice

by Anonymous



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Billy Hargrove Is a Scumbag, Consensual Underage Sex, Deception, Domestic Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Happy Ending, Minor Violence, Not Between Billy and Max, Step-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 77,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When her mom remarries, Max moves with her into her step-dad's trailer in the middle of nowhere. At least the guy who lives next door is hot.-Skateboard abandoned by the door like she’d been told, Max crosses her arms over her chest and says, “I’m Max.”He hums and drawls, “Max, huh? Weird name for a little girl.”Max’s face screws up tighter, little, white teeth flashing.“It’s short for Maxine, and I’m not a little girl, you jerk, I’m 16.”Lifting his beer in a toast and nodding like he’s tipping a hat, he says with a grin, “Good to know. I’m Billy, by the way.”“Haven’t known a Billy since I was like five,” she scoffs.“Yea, well, it beats ‘William’ or ‘Will’ so.” Billy tips the aluminum can towards his mouth, throat bare. Max pointedly does not watch his Adam’s apple bob through a few swallows. When he pulls off with a satisfied gasp, Billy jerks his head to the couch again. “So you gonna sit or what? I don’t bite.”His grin and wink imply otherwise.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Comments: 146
Kudos: 105
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it is I. The Billy/Max anon author (please see "Pescatarian" and "Chew Toy" and "Left Handed" and "Show and Tell"). I bring you seven weeks of Billy/Max plot(!!!) with plenty of UST and sex mixed in. So this will be a taste of how I write plot fics. Hopefully it vibes with y'all. If not, no hard feelings. I can't force you to read something you don't wanna read. I do hope people like it, but **I** like it, so that's all that matters to me.
> 
> I was very excited to write this fic, pumped it out in a little over a week. I tried a bunch of new techniques with this fic, so if you know who I am and have read my other ST fics, please contact me and let me know what you think. I really tried to cut down on unnecessary scenes and wording. Sometimes I just bloat the word count of fics. So! I'm trying to hone my craft a little more.
> 
> Please know none of the rape/violence warnings are between Billy and Max. The sex is entirely consensual (well, as consensual as it can be between a 16 year old and a 24 year old, I guess). Please note that all references to businesses and original characters named or otherwise are entirely fictional. The locations of Salton City/Indio, California are real places. Please like comment subscribe hurhur
> 
> Song for this chapter (probably won't link a song every time, but I was listening to this song on repeat while writing this chapter/story) [Blessa by Toro y Moi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAl8zYG4s8U&t). Sorry if you can't access this song on YT. Try on Spotify (which I do not have lol).

Salton Bay Drive is within sight and smelling distance of the Salton Sea. This hell on the Californian desert floor is a far cry from San Diego. A far cry from the house she grew up in, her dog Lady, her best friend Tamara. The bleakness makes the separation worse. The ground is pale and hard baked, heat inescapable. Not to mention the reek of dead fish and the lake itself. And the dust. The mobile homes are mostly double-wides. The nicer ones with their attached carports look more like houses than trailers. There’s a clubhouse and a pool for the trailer park. But a trailer park is a trailer park no matter how it’s dressed up. Besides, Max’s new daddy Neil Hargrove doesn’t live in one of the double-wides. No, it’s just two single-wide trailers nestled next to each other, empty plots all around them. No trees. No green. Max hates every second of it.

Of course Mom and Neil had married in the summer. When the average high in Salton City is above 100 degrees. Until October. Of course they moved here, packing up their belongings in a truck Max’s uncle drove while they tottered along in Mom’s Buick. The farther they drove from San Diego, the more Max’s heart sank. Because she already didn’t like Neil. There’s an edge to him. Something not quite right. Plus until Mom and Neil tied the knot, he refused to move in with them or vice versa. And then when the wedding was decided and plans were made, he insisted they move to live with him. Because he owned his home. Mobile home. While Susan rented an apartment in San Diego. It ‘only made sense,’ according to Neil, for them to move to Salton City. Again, Max hates every second of it.

There aren’t even 1,000 people living here. Most of the streets are deserted; no houses. Or if there’d been a house on a plot at some point, its hollowed remains are something out of a budget horror movie. There’s no arcade but plenty of places to skate. Salton City is full of abandoned concrete. And so long as there’s a hardware store nearby—there is—Max can always DIY something with a little fast-set and water. Wouldn’t be the first time. It’s too fucking hot to skate all day, though. And Neil is a miser when it comes to the AC. He won’t set it any lower than 80, says it’s a waste. So until school starts in September, West Shores High School near enough to walk if she wants to sweat through her clothes, it’s nothing but lying in her bed with minimal clothes on and a fan pointed at her.

It’s not all bad. There’s like… one good thing about this place. The single-wide trailer next to them, basically a pair of twins in this dust bowl, is the only other trailer nearby. The nice double-wides are closer to the road, closer to the Salton Sea. They can have it. As hot as this place is, as ugly as it is, as much as Max hates it, the guy who lives next door almost makes up for it. She hates to admit it, probably wouldn’t even notice if she were younger. Even two years would make a difference. But she’s not younger. She’s sixteen, and her eyes are open. The guy who lives next door is hot. In a trailer-trash, douchebag kind of way with his loud car, long hair, and sleazy moustache.

There are no lawns to mow or take care of. If there were, Max would see more of him, she thinks. There are two cars parked in front of the trailer next door. An ancient Cadillac with a big rear end and bouncy shocks. An old person car. Next to it is a Camaro. Dust from driving around dulls the blue paint. One time shortly after he’d pulled up for the evening, off from whatever job he has, Max rolled by on her skateboard. When she was alone, she swiped her finger through the dust on the trunk and wrote ‘wash me.’ The next day when he came home, Max drifted by to see ‘fuck you’ written just under that. She snorted and smiled all the way to the abandoned pool she picked for her skate spot. She was tempted to write out next to it ‘say please.’

Since moving here, he’s seen her a few times. Usually when he stomps out of the trailer in the morning to go to work, Max guesses. Sunglasses, cigarette on his lip, and already pissed off about something. He pauses long enough to watch her skate by from behind those tinted lenses. Maybe she waits to leave the house until she knows he’s due to leave. They make quite the pair with their long hair in this heat. The lake nearby plagues the shore communities with humidity in the morning, turning this stretch of desert into a tropical nightmare until the winds from the northeast kick up. Max is used to seeing guys with long surfer hair like him. She doesn’t know why she finds this one so distracting. So attractive. It’s not the hair, not the muscles, not the machismo. Maybe it’s because when she stares him in the face while rolling by, she knows behind those aviators that he’s looking at her, too.

She doesn’t get a name until she explodes out of the trailer past dusk one night. Only two weeks in and Neil’s drunken ranting at Susan trails Max as she flees. She can’t take it anymore, needs to get away, wants to go back home so badly. Wheels down and already kicking once, she rolls past the Cadillac and Camaro, but doesn’t get farther than that.

“Hey you, little red.”

Grinding to a stop and out of breath for unrelated reasons, she turns a snarl on him. Sitting in a folding chair at the end of his driveway, he nurses a beer between his legs and pinches a cigarette between left thumb and pointer. She hadn’t seen him when she burst through the front door, flew down the porch steps, and kicked off just now. The mountains to the west block the sun and cut it off even though it would still be light out in San Diego. She misses it more and more all the time. Whenever Neil isn’t home to whine about her running up his phone bill, Max calls her real daddy. She wants to move back to San Diego and live with him. She misses Lady and her friends, especially Tamara. He wants that, too, says maybe they can discuss it with Mom after a little while. Meaning she’ll have to ride out her sophomore year here. 

“What do you want?” She snaps.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, he drawls through the exhale, “Cool it, no need to be a bitch.”

He blows the rest of the smoke through a narrow gap in his lips, making Max wait. The temperature out here has already plummeted. He’s better dressed for it in jeans and a white wifebeater, although only just. Max shivers in shorts and a tank-top. Not the smartest things to wear at night in the desert, but it’s all that keeps her cool when she has to wear clothes in Neil’s trailer. Mostly when he’s home. 

Adjusting his position in the chair with his legs spread wide, he nods next door.

“Old man tearing shit up in there?”

It’s such an off-the-wall question that Max just frowns at him and shakes her head. At first.

“No he… he’s just drinking and yelling… Why?”

A shrug and another drag on the cigarette. He’s done with it, though, and drops it to the pavement to rub out the cherry with the tip of his boot.

“Just curious. You shouldn’t skate around here at night. It’s dangerous.” He rises with his beer in one hand and snaps up the chair in the other. “Come on.”

Her foolish curiosity about him wins over her initial, logical response. Which is to tell him to go fuck himself and either skate off or go back inside. Because she doesn’t know him and shouldn’t follow him inside his trailer. Or whoever’s trailer it is. She does anyway with a roll of her eyes and her skateboard tucked under her arm, hopping into a jog to narrow the gap between them.

The inside of this trailer is almost exactly the same as Neil’s. Only it’s more lived in. A little messy with food wrappers and empty cans, bottles on the coffee table. Water rings on said coffee table. Something Neil would bust a gasket over. Max lingers in the semi-circle of linoleum that’s peeling up right at the trailer’s front door. It’s off-white carpet beyond that. He wanders in deeper, clearly comfortable in the space. The lawn chair ends up wedged between the back of the sectional and the half-wall that cordons off the kitchen. Max leans on the toes of her sneakers to keep an eye on him, spies a dark bedroom beyond the kitchen. Must be the master bedroom. To Max’s right, when she risks a glance away from him, she finds a hallway with three doors on the left. So two more bedrooms and a bathroom. Just like Neil’s, laid out exactly the same.

“You can lean your board by the door,” he says with a flick of his hand, dropping into the prime seat of the sectional. The best view of the TV in the entertainment system. His left arm is crooked on the armrest at the elbow like he’s smoking. It doesn’t smell like cigarette smoke in here. Maybe he only smokes outside. Flicking that aloft hand to the rest of the sectional, he grunts, “Have a seat.”

It’s just barely better than him telling her to sit. Irritation spitting like water splashed on a hot pan, she recalls him calling her a bitch just now. She should stand here stubborn just to prove a point. The TV clicks on, though, and he doesn’t say anything else to her. He doesn’t watch her, at least not openly. They’ve never been this close to each other, only passing like 18-wheelers roaring in opposite directions on the freeway. Max is sure she’s never seen him without sunglasses on, either. He has the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. Devil eyes.

As if they know she’s thinking about them—not admiring them, god damn it—they flick up to her.

“Well, little red? What’s it gonna be? You can go back to daddy’s if you want, nobody’s stopping you.”

He sneers ‘daddy.’ She makes a face at him.

“Neil isn’t my dad, and I have a name, you know.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts again, changing the channel. His beer from outside is once more wedged between his thighs. Max stares at the bulge of muscle trapped under denim. “Why don’t you show me some manners and introduce yourself, since I was nice enough to bring you out of the cold.”

Skateboard abandoned by the door like she’d been told, Max crosses her arms over her chest and says, “I’m Max.”

He hums and drawls, “Max, huh? Weird name for a little girl.”

Max’s face screws up tighter, little, white teeth flashing.

“It’s short for Maxine, and I’m not a little girl, you jerk, I’m 16.”

Lifting his beer in a toast and nodding like he’s tipping a hat, he says with a grin, “Good to know. I’m Billy, by the way.”

“Haven’t known a Billy since I was like five,” she scoffs.

“Yea, well, it beats ‘William’ or ‘Will’ so.” Billy tips the aluminum can towards his mouth, throat bare. Max pointedly does not watch his Adam’s apple bob through a few swallows. When he pulls off with a satisfied gasp, Billy jerks his head to the couch again. “So you gonna sit or what? I don’t bite.”

His grin and wink imply otherwise. 

Max’s arms are still crossed when she cocks her head and asks instead, “Can I get one of those?”

Billy glances at the beer in his hand.

“What, you want a beer?” He snorts and gives her a patronizing look. “That would be rather irresponsible of me, wouldn’t it, Maxine?”

“It’s just Max, dude, don’t call me ‘Maxine.’”

Billy hums with the mouth of the can at his lips again. Not drinking. Just watching her over condensation slicking the aluminum. She challenges that stare with her own, blue on blue. 

A huff of a laugh rustles through Billy’s nose. He gestures to the kitchen with his beer.

“Fine. But only if you don’t tattle on me to your daddy.”

As she walks by, she snaps, “He’s not my dad.”

“Uh huh.”

The linoleum tiles in the kitchen are peeling up some. Max rubs the heel of her sneaker over one to see if it will magically stay down. It does for a few seconds before slowly popping back up. It’s cheap flooring, same as in Neil’s trailer. The fridge is well stocked, at least. Too much food for just Billy. Max lingers by the fridge with a cold can in her hand and strains her ears to hear anything other than the TV playing low. Like Billy doesn’t want to disturb someone. A snore rattles from the master bedroom to Max’s left. Ah. Billy must have a girlfriend… or boyfriend? Staring at the mop of his hair from behind, Max figures he could go either way. She must loiter too long, though, because Billy glances at her and catches her looking.

“I’d offer to let you take a picture, but I don’t own a Polaroid.” He jerks his head. “C’mere.”

“You sure like to boss people around,” Max mumbles as she claims the part of the sectional that curves. Plenty of space between her and Billy.

“Nobody’s holding a gun to your head,” he volleys back over the hiss and spit of Max popping her beer open. 

She rolls her eyes at that, annoyed with herself for not fighting him more. Max just as quickly sputters and makes a face at the beer can.

“Yuck, why do people drink this? It tastes like what dirty socks smell like. And piss.”

A few bubbles of laughter rise out of Billy’s throat when he waggles his can Max’s way.

“Down the hatch, Max, you don’t drink it for taste. It’s cheap, easy to get drunk on, and slightly better than water.”

Max doesn’t doubt the cheap part. Nothing that tastes this bad can possibly cost much. She’d have to stomach enough to get drunk, though, and she has no idea how much that is. Not prudish, Max knows she’s a bit more innocent than some of her friends back home. Not much for partying or drugging, too rooted in fear and insecurity to be adventurous. She may have been called a wet blanket once or twice. So she’s never had a beer, never smoked a cigarette or more, never got farther with anybody than groping and kissing. Badly. Not that she doesn’t think about all that and more. So she huffs under Billy’s watchful eyes and sharp grins and tips the beer back into her mouth. It’s sort of like downing medicine—just drink it fast so she won’t taste it.

The couch cushion under her shifts, and then cigarettes and cologne tickle her nose when Billy laughs, “Slow down, I’m not gonna be held responsible if you get pissed.”

When Max pulls off the can, Billy’s hand sort of hovers around the ball of her bare shoulder. Pale like fine China and freckled compared to the honey glow of him. Not touching her but clearly reaching to. She gives him her best scowl, don’t touch me, and nudges the can right back to her lips. They’re chapped from the dry air and dust of this place. She can’t find her chapstick. Not all the boxes in her room are unpacked, yet. Just her clothes, bedding, and her skateboard. Skating in the blazing heat of this place is more attractive than staying home, so. This all passes through her brain with heat sort of building in her cheeks and sweat breaking out on her upper lip and brow. That was fast.

Having never touched her, Billy takes his hand away and sits flat on the couch when Max says, “I can handle it.”

Billy just hums at that and relaxes into the couch. It’s one of the end seats. It probably reclines, probably has a button or lever on the side to pop up a footrest. Billy doesn’t reach for it, though, is content to wedge his beer back between his thighs. How it stays upright, Max isn’t sure, because he spreads them as far apart as they’ll go. It’s obnoxious like the rest of him—his lazy grins, his hooded eyes, that stupid moustache. It all comes together with his mullet and strong jaw to make… an annoyingly hot guy. Max is even more irritated that she sees him that way, now knowing he’s a jerk. A little funny. But a jerk. Her and her mom really know how to pick them, apparently.

-

Ice broken, Max doesn’t bother playing coy and steering clear of Billy. Even if she should, even if a little part of her says he’s trouble. She still kicks down the nearly deserted street in the morning when he takes off. Except now he grins at her, usually says something stupid like, “Hey little red,” or, “Don’t get into too much trouble.” All with his sunglasses pulled down so he can wink at her. Even when the sunglasses are in the way, his eyes are on her the entire time. Not anywhere in particular. Just on her. All over her. And when he drives past her gliding down the street, his window is usually open, arm hanging out, and he waves to her. The attention is both frightening and enticing. Frightening because of how strong it is, how they’ve gone from 0 to 60. Enticing because it makes her feel good, and she suspects they can go much faster than 60.

She knows now that Billy is older than her. She’d assumed as much, because he looks older. 24 isn’t that much older, she decides. Not with how much he acts like a gross teenager. He has a job, though, driving a tow truck. There aren’t enough people in Salton City to support a business like that, he explains one evening as he sits in the lawn chair and she leans against the Camaro. So, he tows for all the little shore towns. Even as far north as Indio, if a call comes in. He offers to take her there if she misses the shopping and convenience of San Diego. She says she’ll think about it.

He volunteers as a lifeguard for the pool in the trailer park, too. Or rather he’s paid under the table to do it. Only on the weekends, and only during the days. Weekend nights are too lucrative for the towing business for him to pass up any hours. Especially when calls keep coming in from Indio, the population much larger. Night life actually exists there, or so Billy says. Max wouldn’t know, but he says these things like she would know. Like she’s not sixteen and green. She likes that he treats her that way. Yes, he’s a jerk, there’s no avoiding that. He’d caught the bandaid on her knee the other day and poked fun at her for eating shit when she fell off her board. Enough to heat up her face and send her stomping away from his car, just climbing out as he arrived home. He’s won her back tonight, though, coming home with a cold six pack of a different kind of beer.

“It tastes slightly less like piss,” he promises. Teases. Waggling his eyebrows, he adds in, “I’ve already got the AC cranked…”

She’d complained about Neil being a miser with the AC on their second time hanging out. Because once again, she came over in a tank top and shorts, only to end up shivering on the couch because of the AC blasting. It was then and is now a welcomed relief from the heat outside and the stuffiness of Neil’s trailer.

As Billy moves from kitchen, to bedroom, to bathroom, Max keeps to the couch. Even though she wants to follow him. Her pride won’t allow that. She’s not a fucking dog.

“So… does somebody else live here with you?”

“Yea,” his voice drifts out of the bedroom at the front of the trailer. She has yet to see him enter the master bedroom in the back. “This is my grandpa’s trailer. I’ve been taking care of him since I was 14.”

Max frowns at that, thumbs condensation off the side of her beer. So that must be who she hears snoring in the master bedroom right now. She’s never seen him—awake or otherwise. And Billy has never mentioned him or any other family. Not like Max, who unloaded stories about aunts and uncles, recalled family trips when she was younger. Billy is rather hush about such things, though. Is it worth the steel edge of his meanness to pry?

“So then where are your parents?”

Billy emerges from, apparently, his bedroom with a towel slung over his naked shoulder. He’s still in his work pants, but otherwise is bare. Max spares his peaks and valleys the briefest of glances, maybe lingers too long on his chest, before swallowing a big gulp of beer. It barely tastes better than the PBR Billy usually drinks. Same cheap shit Neil drinks.

“Well, if you must know, mommy split the scene when I was young, and daddy is a shitbag, so when grandpa needed a helping hand, I moved in here. Free room and board, AC always turned high cuz he’s old, and a medicine cabinet full enough to make a Hollywood starlet envious. I’ve got it pretty nice here.”

Max’s flick of her eyebrows is mocking as is the few bobs of her head.

“Sure, crappy trailer in the middle of a toxic wasteland, hot as hell, nobody around, nothing to do.” She flashes him a tight smile. “Sounds like paradise.”

Billy hums, turns on a heel, and tosses over his shoulder, “Don’t be a bitch, Max, loosen up a little. Drink your beer and chill out.”

And that’s the end of that as Billy closes the bathroom door behind him. The shower sputters to life a few seconds later.

It shouldn’t sting so much. When Billy calls her a bitch. It’s never out of meanness… Well, okay, he’s a mean person as a baseline. But it’s not like Neil calling Mom a bitch. From Billy, it’s almost? Amused? He only ever calls her that when she sasses him back. Their banter is fun up until he whips that word out. Huffing, Max drains the beer to half before slapping it down. She shouldn’t let him get the upper hand like that. He always has the last word after calling her a bitch. And that’s no fun, inflating his bloated ego even more. Bored and petty, she rises on socked feet and sneaks down the hallway. When she passes the bathroom, only the static of the shower running reaches her ears. If Billy is a shower singer, he buttons his lip at the moment. His room is just beyond, and Max doesn’t know what to expect.

It’s about as messy as the living room. The living room is probably just an extension of Billy’s room, to be honest. Rather than beer cans and food wrappers, clothes litter the flat surfaces. Like Billy doesn’t have a laundry hamper or something. If Max left her room dirty like this, Neil would never let her hear the end of it. She’s not a messy girl by nature, doesn’t need to be threatened or have an allowance withheld to keep it tidy. So she wrinkles her nose at the state of the room. In Neil’s trailer, the bedroom at the front is her bedroom, too. It’s funny that Billy’s bed is also in the same spot as hers: under the two windows. She huffs through a smile at that, a habit she’s picked up from Billy, and helps herself to a sit on his bed.

Billy sleeps with a dark green sheet the same color as the fitted one stretched over his mattress. Two lumpy pillows sit at the head of the bed, and Max picks one up with a nervous glance to the door. Maybe she should have closed it. But if Billy is going to catch her in here, he’d notice the door shut anyway. So whatever. She holds a pillow in her lap, one thigh folded up on Billy’s bed while the other remains dangling over the side of the mattress. It’s nice and chilly in here, and she shivers. Without thinking about it, Max presses the pillow to her chest and holds on to it. She doesn’t mean to bow her head to bury her nose in the case. It would be funny if it smelled like beer or sweat or something equally gross.

It doesn’t, though. Billy takes care of his hair, is rather prideful of it. So the pillow and the case wrapped around it are full of the sweetness of expensive shampoo and conditioner. None of the harsh fakeness of something like VO5 or dollar store stuff. Under that is a trace of Billy’s cologne. Not as expensive, sort of overpowering when he applies too much. It’s also sweetness and musk. Manly. Max sighs in the pillow and presses her face all the deeper into it, leans back with her left hand in the bed. Her right arm remains wrapped around the lumpy thing as she finds the salt and skin smell of Billy under everything else. What he smells like when he brushes close to her, when he almost puts a hand on her arm or shoulder.

It’s too much. She shouldn’t be doing this, should have some shame. Max’s face heats up as she draws in a shuddering breath and pulls herself out of her stupor. A shiver spikes through her, and she opens blue eyes to Billy’s room again. To Billy leaning on the doorjamb with a towel slung low around his hips, hair dripping water down his chest. His naked chest under his crossed arms. Nothing holds the towel up except where he’s tucked a corner between it and his body. The ridge of muscle at his hip peeks above the towel. He has neat, trimmed hair leading down from his navel. It’s an innie.

She forgets to jump when her eyes flick up to meet his. Like always, though, Billy is easy, amused grins. Not annoyed or insulted he’s found her snooping in his room. Practically cuddling with one of his pillows. Also like always, his gaze roams all over her. It’s only now Max tunes into the chill in here. How her skin is tight all over her. Sometimes she doesn’t wear a bra when she comes over, sometimes forgets. Sometimes on purpose like today. And with her skin tight like this, and the chill petting over her like this, and with Billy’s devil eyes all over her like this… She must be a spectacle for him. His grin certainly widens like she is.

“Having fun?”

He asks as much with a waggle of his eyebrows. He doesn’t give Max a chance to respond before he rocks himself off his shoulder leaning on the doorjamb. He’s in front of his dresser in a few strides, drops his towel just as quickly. It’s a side view. She catches a flash of intimate skin before whipping her head the other way. Now the heat in her cheeks turns from interested to embarrassed. How long had he been standing there, watching her inhale the scents of him like a weirdo?

Hopping into a pair of sweats, Billy neglects any other form of dress and strides past the bed. Max’s heart hammers away in her throat and climbs up it, ready for ridicule. There’s no way Billy won’t make this into a thing. Teasing her and mocking her are his favorite things to do when they’re together. She gives as good as she gets, volleys the ridicule right back. Because maybe she’s an embarrassing teenager, but he’s trashy and knows it. Max gathers the shame in her fair cheeks and hones it into something sharp she can launch back at him. Billy pauses at his doorway again and glances over his shoulder. The whole of his smooth, broad back is hers to look at, and she does when she meets the twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh and Max, by the way, when you wear tiny shorts like that? You’ll wanna keep your legs closed. I can see your panties.”

All she gets out is an embarrassed growl as he cackles at her, walking away. Not before she launches the pillow at his head and hits him dead on.

“Don’t be gross, you jerk!”

-

It’s a Friday night. Billy usually works late, running tows in Indio or around the Salton Sea. So as Max takes turns with other skate kids doing tricks off DIY ramps, playing a game of S.K.A.T.E, Billy walking up is the last thing she expects. It’s not quite dark yet, but the temperature has dropped. She’s brought a jacket along for this exact reason, skids to a stop with jeans already making her sweat. Billy stands off to the side with teenagers waiting for their turns, his thumbs hooked in his pockets. He’s shirtless. What the hell is he doing here?

“What the hell are you doing here?” She mumbles when she kicks her board up and tucks it under her arm. “Don’t you have work tonight?”

His grin is easy as always. His chest is fucking distracting, though.

“Nah, one of the other guys needed more hours, so I let him have my shift. Thought”—Billy shrugs—“why not see what my little red gets up to when she’s not biting my ankles.”

‘My little red.’

Huffing through her nose and ignoring the heat trying to climb in her face, Max grumbles, “Don’t get in the way, all right? I usually skate until the sun goes down and then go home.”

Billy’s eyebrow with the scar through it flicks up.

“‘Don’t get in the way?’ What, you think I’d show up here and not take a turn on your little DIY shit?” Billy glances around her. “Did you help set this up or was it already here?”

Grey-blue eyes roll.

“Yea, I helped set up. I’m not some asshole who just shows up and doesn’t put in the work. I’ve been skating since I was a kid.”

“Oh yea?” Billy cocks a hip out and rests his hands on them. Why does he have to be shirtless? “You any good?”

Max’s upper lip twitches when she scoffs, “Watch,” and then kicks away.

Her and the group that has sort of included her, solidarity amongst skaters, have claimed an old clubhouse as their current stomping grounds. Someone already went through the trouble of ripping the chain link fence out. And most of the building itself is gone, rotting away since the 70s. Now, teens before them and some here tonight, including Max, have claimed the level, concrete foundation for themselves. A few of them here can nail some boards together to make ramps. Max had taught them how to mix concrete, and with their skills combined, they have some ledges and ramps strewn about the place. Enough to make it interesting, enough to impress others with tricks. Peacocking. Max makes for the empty pool, though, not caring if Billy follows her to watch. Well, mostly not caring…

It used to scare her, when she’d teeter on the edge of a ramp or the drop into a bowl. It’s something she had to get over, had to accept she’d fall and hurt herself while learning. Now, she shifts her weight forward without thinking about it, rides the momentum down, kicks herself faster when she needs to. It’s just wind in her hair that’s tied back and high, just vibrations from the wheels under her. The lip of the pool is smooth concrete, so it’s hard to grind but is rounded enough to fly off, get some tricks on. Max splits her attention between where she’s going and Billy standing at ground level with a few teens around him. They can’t decide between watching Max or looking at him. He sticks out, looks more like a surfer or a gym guy than a skater. He never looks away from her, though. When Max launches herself up the wall of the pool one more time, breathing hard and whooping when she nails it, she wonders if maybe Billy knows how to skate.

“Not bad, not bad,” he says with a nod, lips puckered in a mocking sort of way. Here it comes. “Lemme borrow your board real quick, wanna try something.”

Max doesn’t let herself get annoyed at watching Billy. Because yea, he knows how to skate. Knows the dips and inclines of the pool like he’s skated here for years. Like the pool isn’t difficult to skate. Billy never hesitates, isn’t afraid to squat almost with his ass hitting the ground to follow through. He is coiled power and shifting muscles under his skin as he makes every move look like child’s play. More teens cluster at the edge of the pool, trail after Billy when he pops over the lip and keeps right on skating for their DIY set up. He flies through all this, too, body weaving to keep the momentum up through every grind and kick. Like he’s flying.

He’s got a sweat going when he finally skids to a stop. Glowing. A few people whistle and make some noise for him. One or two of the older teens are bold enough to approach him for a high five or a clap on his shoulder. And Billy actually reciprocates. He doesn’t quite preen under the attention, but he soaks it up all the same. Max stands at the back of it all, watching him through the crowd of eager teens who clamor for his attention, his advice. Above them all, though, his eyes are on Max. Always watching.

Done with all this, Billy takes a step away. Towards the trailers. Looking at her over the crowd like ‘you coming?’ They don’t say anything as they walk, as Billy squeezes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from one of his pockets. He doesn’t smoke inside the trailer. Something about his grandpa and secondhand smoke and ruining the ‘good thing he has going’ if the old man dies because of him. Max just stays upwind of him. They reach the trailers in comfortable silence, Max’s sweat going cold and scratchy on her, when they tune into it. Slurred yelling from Neil’s trailer. 

Billy doesn’t even wait for Max to sigh before he murmurs, “Come on.”

It’s all the coaxing she needs. Tonight has been more fun, more alive than any night she’s spent here so far. Watching Billy was more of a thrill than her pride will allow her to admit. Max only hesitates at the bottom of the porch stairs, lip in her teeth as she watches Billy unlock the front door. 

“I need a shower,” she says lamely, a flimsy excuse. 

Billy glances down to her under the light shining above the porch. The orange glow cuts his face harshly, shows the sparkle of sweat on him, too. 

“Just take one here, Max.” They glance away as one to Neil’s trailer at the twinkle of dishes breaking. Their eyes meet through the darkness. “You really wanna deal with that? Be my guest.”

He pushes the front door open, and it swings shut behind him. But does not latch, does not lock. He gives her a moment alone to think about it. Truthfully, if he were still here, she’d just march up the porch steps and go inside. To prove a point—that she can do this. She can shower in Billy’s grandpa’s trailer knowing how they look at each other. How different tonight is. Something is building. After Billy had caught her in his room, despite his mean teasing about seeing up her shorts, she knows it’s different, now. She’s not reading into his grins or lingering stares. There’s something here, creeping along the edge of shadows. She is in the light and cannot see what it is. But it sees her. 

So after scratching her nails over and over again on the handrail, cheap wood grey from bleaching in the sun for years, she takes a step up. Another crash of something next door, her mom’s voice sobbing, and then Max takes the steps two at a time to get inside quicker. To shut out the horrible life that is hers now. Neil and all that ugliness is on the other side of the front door when she shuts it and leans her back against it. She fumbles for a few seconds to find the latch of the deadbolt and flip it. She’s doing this. She can always tap out. She can always leave, stop talking to Billy, avoid him for the rest of her life. Like a small part of her says she should. He’s bad news. Instead, she turns to the right and follows the column of light spilling out of Billy’s room. Billy looks up from his dresser when she stands there, not looking at him. 

“Here. It probably won’t fit, but it’s better than putting your sweaty clothes back on.”

She’s in his doorway, and he steps up to her with a t-shirt and shorts in hand. They have a drawstring on them. They look like something Billy would have worn for gym. She’ll have to pull the string as taut as it’ll go to keep them up. 

Max takes it with a smile trying to wiggle on her face. When she looks up at him without tilting her head, he is already there. Watching her down his nose. 

“I don’t have any clean underwear.”

She doesn’t mean for that to come out so suggestive. Billy just lifts an eyebrow at her. 

“You think I’m wearing underwear right now? Give free balling a chance, Max, you may just like it.” He takes a step closer. She’s in the way. “I assume you know how to work a shower-tub combo?”

The tang of his sweat drifts over her. It’s humid and pours off him thanks to the AC always chugging away in here. She turns her head to escape it and to stop herself from staring at all that muscle and skin. Because he’s still fucking shirtless. 

Instead of answering his question, she turns to the bathroom door and mutters, “Put a shirt on,” as she steps inside. 

She barely catches his rich, deep chuckle and, “Make me,” as he walks by. 

There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Billy never locks it when she’s here and he’s in the shower. She decides on a truce with the nervous part of her that doesn’t like Billy. The shower part is happening. But she’ll lock the door to meet her nervous shiver halfway. See? He’s here, lounging in the living room, but no one can get in. It’s fine. And… even if Billy were to open the door and walk in, he wouldn’t hurt her. Right? Can she be sure of that? Her confidence in Billy stems from the banter they share and the fact that he’s not tried anything yet. Kiddy fiddlers and rapists are creatures of opportunity. She knows that, had sat through a self defense class during the summer from eighth grade into ninth. She doesn’t own mace, but she knows how to use it. Knows to kick and scream and struggle as much as possible. Knows it’s better for her to scream there’s a fucking fire than to cry for help. 

Max draws in a calming breath as she waits for the water to heat up. There’s only one curtain for the bath. A clear liner. Makes sense, she guesses, because Billy is a dumb boy and would of course only have a clear liner. Who would walk in here and peek at him? She snorts at that and nudges her toes along the waist of her jeans. Her clothes are on the floor, kicked away from the rug under her toes. Of course it makes her more nervous to be naked in here. Annoyed with herself, she reiterates that none of that matters, because Billy isn’t going to do anything. He had every chance in the world to do something already. She knows that.

She knows he’s stronger than her, could do whatever he wants. And she couldn’t stop him. That shouldn’t excite her as much as it does. As a kid, as ‘one of the boys,’ she’d grown used to being stronger than them. Winning most of the playground scuffles and sending boys crying back to their mommies. Taller and stronger until recently when the boys she knew since childhood decided to shoot for the sky and finally grow into those big hands and feet of theirs. Of course, she doesn’t tussle with boys anymore. They want a different kind of wrestling. And until Billy? She wasn’t too interested in that. Now, he’s all she thinks about as she steps over the side of the tub.

Billy’s shampoo, conditioner, and soap are the only ones in the wire caddy hanging from the showerhead. So she doesn’t have a choice but to use them. Tonight would have been a shower night regardless, so she actually does need to run through the full routine. It’s whatever. Smelling like Billy. Max doesn’t care—that’s what she tells herself with her eyes rolling. Besides, he probably won’t notice when she comes out and sits on the couch with him until they’re both sure Neil is passed out. Max will notice. Is already annoyed with herself because she’ll notice.

She swallows hard with her hands in her hair, scrubbing her short nails through red locks and expensive shampoo. It foams up so nicely, actually lifts the oils from her hair to leave them stripped and prone to tangling. She pauses the whole process long enough to wash her face and ears before slathering her hands in Billy’s conditioner. That’s like rubbing silk into her hair, and then her hair becomes silk in turn. It must leave his curls just as soft. They look it. She may spend an inordinate amount of time just combing her hair with her fingers. Maybe thinks about thicker fingers doing this instead. Normally even with her conditioner the strands tangle somewhere. Not now.

A knock on the door and a jiggle of the handle immediately after have Max ripping her fingers out of her slick hair.

“What?” She barks.

“You locked the door?” Billy grumbles, jiggling the handle even more. To be annoying. “Max, I’m hurt.”

“I lock the door at home too, idiot.”

Well, she does now that she lives here. When it had just been her and Mom? She didn’t need to lock the bathroom or her bedroom. Now…

Billy sighs on the other side of the door.

“Little red, I hate to tell you this, but this lock ain’t stopping me from coming in there. I gotta piss.”

His voice wanders away, into his bedroom, when he says that. Frantic, Max looks around the bathroom for something. Something to wedge under the handle? Something to cover herself with? She dunks her head under the spray to wash the conditioner out. Water streams over her ears when Billy returns to the door, the door knob making tiny, metallic noises. Billy picking the lock, most likely.

Shoving her hair out of her face, Max squeals, “Billy, you don’t have a real shower curtain! I’m naked!”

“And?”

A frustrated growl shreds through her teeth.

“What part of ‘I’m naked’ do you not understand?”

The lock clicks, and then the knob turns. Billy’s voice slips through the humidity and steam of the bathroom.

“Just face the wall, then. I’m not pissing in the kitchen sink.”

That leaves her with some modesty. It’s not like it’s a clear shot through the liner. It’s a little foggy from age and probably soap scum. The material itself lends to skewing what’s behind it anyway. Max bottles a yelp when the door opens and Billy walks in, sort of wobbly shapes of blue for his jeans and the gold of his skin. Nothing definite at this distance, although he shuts the door behind him and steps closer. Increasing that definition. Max faces the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. There isn’t much there yet, if there ever will be, but she still covers herself like he can see. The growl of a zipper tugging down tickles her ear, and then he’s pissing with a sigh. Obscene. She’s literally soaked and naked maybe two feet away. Does he have no shame?

Does she? Max wonders that as she betrays her annoyance and steals a tiny peek over her shoulder. Again, the liner does not lend itself to specifics. So it’s not like she can make out anything as if she were looking at him full in the face. Or rather full in the dick, because that’s where she looks. The liner is clean and clear enough for her to see his hand wrapped around himself. He actually did have to piss, hadn’t been lying about that. Him picking the lock is still a sore spot, though. Mostly to her pride, thinking she could keep him out and being slightly secure in that knowledge. She’s disappointed in herself, too, because here Billy is, two feet away, and he’s doing nothing. Blinking in the soft spray, Max licks water off her lips and turns her head that much more. To get a better look at him.

“Enjoying the view?”

He always knows when she’s looking at him. Him being smug about it, his voice scraping the bottom of his register, just irritates her more at being caught. He always catches her. And yet Max only sometimes stumbles upon him looking at her. He lets her catch him, she thinks.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says with her head high, nose in the air. Her hair sticks to her back but isn’t long enough to aid her modesty. “Hurry up and leave so I can finish.”

Another rich chuckle like from before. Billy zips right back up, but doesn’t flush or wash his hands or leave. Max refuses to steal another peek over her shoulder. Instead, she stands very still with her backside on full display. If Billy is facing her. Which he probably is. The bathroom is silent except for the static of the spray beating down, the pipes singing with pressure and heat. So does Max’s heart as it flutters like a hummingbird in her chest. Why is he still standing here? Why hasn’t he left yet? Can he even see anything through the curtain? Max swallows hard, thinks about cursing at him, when Billy speaks again.

His voice plays games with the peach fuzz on her when he purrs, “Make sure you get all those nooks and crannies, Max. Girls gotta stay fresh and clean, know what I mean?”

Of course she knows exactly what he means. She hasn’t gotten to that part yet, washes all… that last. She has a system, and he’s throwing a damn wrench into it! Max opens her mouth with a sneer twisted onto her face, only for her, when Billy flushes. The water raining down on her goes blindingly hot, and she leaps to the far side of the tub to shield her skin from the heat.

“You fucking asshole!”

Billy’s cackle fills the steamy bathroom. It sounds like a donkey braying at the end when he catches his breath and calms down. While the toilet is still running, he lingers long enough to wash his hands. The water won’t go back to her desired temperature until the toilet fills back up. She cowers as far away from the rain as possible, goes so far as to throw a dirty look over her shoulder. Billy dries himself on a hand towel hanging from a bar screwed into the wall. Right behind her. Eyes up, she meets his through the liner. It’s vague, the stone edges of his handsome face and the sharpness of his grin. She sees his white teeth between the spread of his lips, although it’s all just warped shapes. 

“You are the worst,” she huffs.

“Oh, you think so?”

One of his hands slips from his hips, and his thick fingers curl around the edge of the curtain. Forgetting herself, Max spins around and slaps his hand to the plastic wall of the shower. To stop him from yanking the curtain open. She uses both to pin his hand there but knows full well he lets her have this. If he wants to look at her, she can’t stop him. If he wants to do more than look, she can’t stop him. Her stomach tumbles once more at the thought.

“Billy stop, I’m trying to shower. Just go, you’re being annoying!”

“Awww, come on little red, don’t be like that. Where’s your sense of humor?”

He is all laughter when she pries one of her hands away from his to thrust her middle finger at him. It’s the only part of her she’ll stick out of the shower. Their hands left tangled at the wall of the shower just… stay there. His fingers almost cup around her palm, her pinky and ring finger almost laced between his pointer and middle. The ring on his finger is warm.

“Okay, okay,” he drawls after another round of percolating laughter. “I’m leaving… You sure you don’t need any help?”

“Get out!”

Face hot from embarrassment more than anger, she removes herself from him and stands back under the spray. It’s tolerable once more. His hand is slow to slip away from where she’d pinned it to the wall. He is slow to remove himself from the bathroom, lingering there for a breath or two. Long enough for Max to roll his bar of soap in her hands and begin tending to her shoulders. The pale sliver of her back is to him. She doesn’t care what he can see of her, is too flustered to care anymore. 

Because she… doesn’t want him to stop. It twists her stomach to admit it, makes her sink her teeth into her lip and tremble a little from how much she doesn’t want him to stop. In her mind, she sees it so clearly—Billy brushing the curtain back, staring at her with humidity weighing his curls down, the steam making his devil eyes that much more intense. And she would let him look. At whatever he wants. But that’s not going to happen, because he’s going to stop just short of pushing the boundary between them. Like always. She knows because he sighs after a second. He sucks all the joy out of the room when he goes. The last she hears of him is him reaching from the other side of the door to press the button on the lock in the knob. So when he pulls it shut, it’s locked for her. Again. Not that it’d mattered anyway, he came right in and made a clown of himself. Of her pride.

The thing prowling on the edge of the shadows takes a swipe at her. It has Billy’s grinning tongue and blinding teeth. His devil eyes. She doesn’t try to chase it away. 

Rubbing her hands over her face, Max whispers, “Shit.”

When she steps into the hallway in a cloud of steam, Max takes the towel hanging in the bathroom with her. For her hair, because she doesn’t want it dripping everywhere. Billy is in his spot on the sectional. Still in jeans from earlier. Still shirtless. He does a double take when she loiters at the end of the hallway right by the front door. Eyebrows high and surprised at first, he smooths it over with… a soft smile. Almost soft. As soft as his mischievous face can manage.

“That’s my towel,” he says casually.

Max shrugs. His t-shirt isn’t overly large on her. She suspects it’s because he buys them a size too small on purpose. So it ends up painted on him when he wears it. It’s old and vintage soft, though, the white lettering for Metallica peeling off. It’s a sleep shirt, surely. It smells like him, and maybe Max had stood in the bathroom with it on and tugged the collar up to her nose. To breathe him in. To calm down after washing diligently like he’d told her to. There is a thin line between washing herself and playing with herself. She’d toed the line and now flushes under his stare. Like her sin is a flashing, neon sign above her head. 

Groaning as he rises from the sectional, he approaches her with the softness in his smile lingering. So Max just looks up at him when he comes to stand directly in front of her.

“What?” She asks. “It was the only towel in the bathroom.”

“I don’t care,” he says back, voice tumbling over gravel. “Did you leave me any hot water?”

“Maybe.”

He hums at that, looks her up and down and all around. Like normal. It’s a breath of fresh air for Max. That he’s acting like he always does around her. Backing off from the charged thing that had been about to spark between them when he teased about opening the curtain. His gaze lingers somewhere below her chin long enough for him to huff through a grin. No more of that strange softness. Slow so she doesn’t startle, he reaches up to lift his towel from around her shoulders. She’ll just have to deal with her damp hair, hope she’d squeezed enough water out of the red locks. He backs off, though, doesn’t poke fun at her or enter her personal space any further. Max relaxes and finally takes deeper breaths. When she stilted her breathing, she doesn’t know.

Back flat to the front door to make room for him to pass, Max doesn’t look away when Billy muses, “My shirt looks good on you.”

He walks past, though, and shuts himself in the bathroom. Not sure what to make of his comment, Max looks down at herself. The black cotton just barely betrays how her nipples pebble in the chill of the living room. They’re what he’d stared at. She knows, because she catches him looking there. Mostly when she doesn’t wear a bra. Again, sometimes she feels bolder than she is and goes without one. To see what he’ll do, if he’ll forget himself and slip up and stare longer than he means to. It’s not like she’s well endowed or anything. Enough to fill her small hands. Billy’s hands are bigger.

Thoughts of his square, almost ugly hands chase her to the sofa. Her usual spot, the curved part, is where she settles. The heat of the water still soaks her skin, and it takes nothing for her to lie down, facing the coffee table. Maybe the water had been too hot, because she can barely keep her eyes open. It’s not even late. She’s used to staying up until 11 or midnight with Billy while they wait out Neil’s rage. Then again, she’s not used to doing this on the weekends. Because usually Billy is working. So she’d probably be getting ready for bed right now, buds of a Walkman jammed deep in her ears to drown out the chaos she cannot escape. It’s peaceful here. She falls asleep to the TV playing something low, the hiss of the shower helping to fill the silence. Her last thought before going under is Billy’s hand reaching past the curtain for her.

Her first thought upon drifting back to the waking world is Billy’s hands, too. Mostly because he is warm next to her, she is within his reach, and he takes advantage of that reach. One of his hands is in her hair. Not hurting her, god no, just petting the dry locks. She lies on her left side, sort of curled up to stay warm with her hands tucked under her chin. A tremor runs through her when Billy scoops hair behind her ear. He is strangely gentle about it, even though the calluses there tickle the shell of her ear. When he’s done, his short fingers follow her hairline down to the nape of her neck. He sweeps the curtain of her red hair away and pets the baby hairs he finds there. All of her pale skin is alive and buzzing under this simple, small touch. No one has ever electrified her before.

It’s scary in a way, and that fear of the unknown is what makes her stir and give away that she’s awake. She doesn’t sit up right away. Just sucks in a loud breath and shifts her head under the curl of his fingers. To give Billy time to save face and remove his hand. If he wants to play it off like he hadn’t been petting her in her sleep. How long was she asleep? How long has he been sitting here? Stroking her hair. As Max goes to sit up, just enough to look at him, Billy does not remove his hand. Doesn’t even twitch to remove it. Max finds she doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind that or worry over the specifics of what brought them together on the sofa. He could have done anything to her. He didn’t. He meets her eyes without shame, blue on blue.

“Hey little red, bout time you woke up.”

She sits up the rest of the way, and now his hand falls away. Max tries not to miss its weight and warmth.

Rubbing her eyes, Max asks through a yawn, “What time is it?”

“Late. Past midnight.”

Ah, not good. Mom may worry about her and come check on her and find her room empty. Max doesn’t want to cause a panic. Or expose where she is, what she’s doing. It would be a nuisance.

“Mmm, I should go back. My mom will worry about me.”

Billy shrugs, stares straight ahead at the TV. His 5 o’clock shadow is coming in. He hadn’t shaved in the shower. It makes him look even older.

“You can stay, if you want.”

There is weight to those words. Intent. Max stares at the side of Billy’s head until his eyes flick to hers. He relaxes in his normal spot with sweatpants and another wifebeater on. How he stands the chill of the AC, she doesn’t know. He has his typical beer wedged between his thighs. The hand that’d been in her hair rests in his lap. Not rejected, just withdrawn. Because the moment was over. This moment is over. She can’t stay. Maybe she’ll get to that point. Maybe she’ll get over the last dregs of her childish fear and innocence one day and stay. Not tonight, though.

“I can’t,” she says firmly. “My mom will worry, and Neil will probably flip out. They don’t know I come over here.”

Rather than huff or get annoyed, Billy breaks into a grin.

“Oh, am I your dirty, little secret? I’m flattered.”

Max huffs a laugh through her nose, shoves his shoulder, and says, “Shut up. You know this is weird. I’m 16.”

‘This’ meaning them sitting here together. Alone. All the charged flirting and staring. Max teases the edge of this thing for the first time, offers the back of her hand for the creeping thing to sniff her. So that it might not strike out and snatch her up, drag her into the shadows with it. Maybe she can coax it into the light instead. Something. Can Billy be coaxed? Doubtful as he hums, amused, and nurses a sip of his beer.

“Well,” he purrs, turning his head just enough to pin her with his devil eyes, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

That’s a hook in her belly. Drawing her to Billy, reeling her in. She sees it perfectly like watching a movie. Leaning forward on her knees digging into the old sofa, balancing herself on the broad shelf of his shoulders. Kissing him. Letting him kiss her, touch her, grab her. Whatever he wants, things she’s only heard gossiped about. That it hurts the first time. That there’s blood. Her fear swells, though, and takes control of that fantasy. It’s cut off before it gets to panting and groaning and wetness. Max shakes her head, unfolds herself from her knees to stand.

“I need to go back.”

He eyes her for a moment longer, a rare time where he has to look up at her. But she juts her chin out, I mean it, and he relents.

“Fine,” he sighs, grabbing his beer to leave it on the coffee table. “I’ll walk you over.”

He’s never done that before. Usually, he stands in the open door of his grandpa’s trailer and watches her cross the pale, baked dirt of the yard between them. She always hears him shut the door once she’s out of sight. So she flinches back on light feet when he stands in one, fluid motion. Otherwise, he’d be in her space. She’s too frazzled and raw right now to play these games with him. One more look, one more cloying word, and she’ll be his. Max knows she’ll buckle, tell him she’s changed her mind, and she’ll be his. She’s too afraid to let that be real. Because she’s on the cusp of it being real. Right now? It’s just a game they play. Everything will be different if she gives in to him and herself. No matter how much she wants to.

Billy is at the front door, unlocking it, when Max mumbles, “I’ll go change.”

“Nah, just bring my clothes back the next time you come over. I’ll wash yours, don’t worry about it.”

No anger at her rejecting him. No meanness. It’s not what she expects. His devil eyes watching her are… restrained. Normally? She knows he’s picking her apart, lifting her layers to peek at the soft paleness of her. Disappointment doesn’t wash over her but relief. Relief that he’s not mad, that he’s not kicking her to the curb. ‘Next time you come over.’ He wants her to come back, wants to play these games with her. She’s never been wanted before. That’s the most dangerous thing about all this. Billy wants her, and it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world.

“Okay,” she says, feeling entirely too small all at once. “Um.. thanks, I guess.”

She shuffles to her shoes at the door. Billy is only shoeless because of his shower. Normally, Billy leaves his shoes on. She and Mom had been a shoes-off house.

Swallowing hard, Max lifts her eyes to Billy’s waiting for her. “Are you working tomorrow night? Or I guess tonight, since it’s Saturday?”

“Yep.”

Ah. So she most likely won’t see him until Sunday evening or Monday night. He’ll sleep the rest of the day so he can take the midnight shift, probably bum around Indio all night. Saturday nights are busiest for him. Mostly because, if the person getting towed is desperate enough, he’ll accept $50 from them to drop their car and go on his merry way. He pockets the money, reports back that the car he’d been called to tow was gone by the time he got there. No one is any wiser, and he comes home Sunday morning with a fat wad of cash in his pocket. People lose their fucking minds when you try to take their cars. Or so Billy says. She wouldn’t know, only has her learner’s permit. 

She nods, slips her feet back into her sneakers without her socks, and then leads them outside. Billy doesn’t bother with shoes, isn’t afraid of stepping on glass or anything. He’s a dumb boy in that regard, would hiss and curse while picking glass out of his feet with tweezers. Max snorts in the dark while imagining it. How annoyed he’d be to hear ‘I told you so.’ How he would whine and fuss, curse when someone poured hydrogen peroxide over his cuts. It would sting like hell.

When they round the back of Mom’s Buick and Neil’s pick-up truck, she glances over her shoulder. His face is neutral for a beat. He winks at her. Everything is okay between them. They’re still on the same page. Billy accepts her silent ‘not tonight’ meaning just tonight. Not ‘never.’ It’s a relief.

He stays at the bottom of the porch steps as she unlocks the front door, twisting the knob to make her entry silent.

As a second thought, one foot already inside, she mumbles, “Goodnight Billy.”

She doesn’t expect him to say anything back, is already inside when his voice drifts into her ear.

“Night Max.”

She may or may not flop on her bed, grab the bottom of the Metallica t-shirt in her fists, and press it flush to her face. She may or may not squirm around on her back, keeping her mouth covered with the t-shirt and Billy’s scent while she fondles herself with her left hand. Because Billy is left handed. Her fingers and soft palm don’t compare to his hands, big and rough like paws swiping at her. She doesn’t do this often, doesn’t really get anything out of it. Maybe she’s not old enough to get anything out of it. But when Max rolls a pink nipple between her fingers and eventually slips those same fingers under her shorts, Billy’s shorts, she pretends it’s him touching her in the dark. Pretends it’s him scratching fingertips through the wisp of downy hair between her legs, teasing her until she’s shaking. And it feels good, kicks her heart into high gear, makes her wet where she slips shy fingers down. Billy wouldn’t be shy. He’d take what he wants, shushing her scared whimpers.

“Billy,” she sighs with a flutter, giving up because she’s too tired to keep going. It’s not the same anyway. It would be better if Billy were here.

Cloaked in shadows, the creeping thing that hungers for her preens at her thoughts. It will have her. It will make her fantasies real. They both know that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape warning applies to this chapter, so LOOK out. Again, it's not between Billy and Max. It's also brief/not graphic.
> 
> The response to chapter one was stellar! A lot more people commented than I thought would! So that's pretty great. There's like twelve of us in here, and I'm trying to feed all of you lol. I've got two more porn-shots finished ("Left Handed" and "Show and Tell"). Currently working on a third ("Whispers in the Dark") as well as a another plot story, sort of, but I've hit a brick wall with it, so we'll see if I ever finish it lol. Haven't worked on it in a week, so don't hold your breath.
> 
> Please let me know ;DDD what you think of this chapter! And maybe give the bottom author note a glance~ [The song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kaOOfci2YC8) referenced in this chapter is Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters" which happens to be my fav Metallica song (which is why it's mentioned hurhur I'm clever). Give it a listen on YT/Spotify or whatever you have.

A week later, another Friday night. Only Billy doesn’t show up to the skate spot. Max tries not to let the pang of disappointment trip her up. Except that last time, Billy has never popped up before. It wouldn’t become a thing after he did it once. That’s not how it works, despite how she keeps throwing glances in the direction of the trailers. Things have been normal between them. Max skating past Billy in the morning, exchanging flirty smirks and looks, hanging out in the evening when Max needs to get away. Which is nearly every night. They haven’t broached the subject of the thing between them. Which surprises Max, because she figured Billy would be more aggressive about it. Sure, his flirting is aggressive, always toeing the line. Maybe he wants her to come to him. It makes her flush to think about it.

The Camaro is in the driveway when she kicks her board up, home for the night. He’ll be asleep for another few hours, will wake up around midnight, and then drive to the tow office to trade his Camaro for a truck. It’s a lucrative night for him. Still, Max lingers in the dark, wishing he would open the front door and see her. Say something. She wants that more and more all the time. Wants him more and more all the time. The desire shames her, embarrasses her. Like she’s some chick in a romance movie. Disgusting. He’s just a guy. Trashy and a jerk. Still, she lingers outside wanting him terribly until dust kicks up on the wind and stings her nose. She goes inside, leaving the Camaro in its shadowed quiet.

Just like the trailer next door, the front door opens into the living room. Neil is there, the couch along the wall where the front door is. The TV and entertainment system are by the window across the way, coffee table and space to walk between. She cannot avoid him as he sits there, eyes bloodshot and zipping to her. It’s calm. Maybe he’s already yelled at Mom. Maybe she faked a headache and went to bed early. The master bedroom door is closed. Max meets Neil’s eyes briefly, sees the TV shine in the wets of them. He has an edge about him that he couldn’t work off on Mom. Max refuses to fall in her mother’s footsteps, refuses to be a man’s punching bag or footstool. Her dad didn’t treat Mom right, either, but he was better than Neil. The Mayfield women really know how to pick them.

“Why were you out so late?”

Max’s back is to Neil. It’s safe to roll her eyes before her shoulders sink with attitude and she turns around.

Jerking her skateboard under her arm she says, “Skating?”

Like duh. Like she doesn’t come back ‘late’ every night. To be fair? Usually he is passed out by now. Usually she’s with Billy. Having to deal with Neil just makes her miss him more.

Neil scowls at her, sits up from his drunken slouch. His blue eyes are like oily fingers on her shorts and thighs, her bare shoulders. Her tank top doesn’t cover much, but the heat of the day had lasted longer into the dusk tonight. It’s the middle of July, half of summer vacation gone. There is no relief from the heat. The worst is yet to come.

“You should put some real clothes on, start acting like a lady.”

She’s picked up more Billy-isms, scoffs and drawls, “Yea, lemme get right on that,” without even thinking about it.

Neil may be a drunk pig, but he is not without his tusks. Max catches him rocketing to his feet in the corner of her eye, having already turned towards her room. Dismissing him. A mistake.

He’s on her in a second, slapping her skateboard out of her hands and ripping her around to face him. The little bones in her wrist grind together, and she scratches at the hairy back of his hand.

“What did you just say to me?”

She struggles instead, flailing in his grip and hissing, “Let go!”

He jerks her closer, wrenching her arm in its socket. She has to catch herself on his chest, but she just as quickly slaps that same hand above his thundering heart.

“Let me go!”

Max rears a foot back to kick him, anything to defend herself, when the master bedroom door opens.

“Neil?”

They freeze by the front door. Max had only gotten it closed. It isn’t locked. Maybe she could twist herself out of Neil’s grip and flee into the night. But then Mom crosses the kitchen and lingers on the metal strip where the linoleum of the kitchen gives way to the carpet of the living room. 

“Neil, dear, leave Max alone, come to bed.”

It’s the most Mom has stuck her neck out for Max since she met Neil. And it means everything to Max, heart in her throat and eyes stinging, when Neil listens to her. He throws Max’s arm away harder than he needs to. The joint throbs with her pulse. She darts down to scoop up her skateboard under his thunderous stare. Not meeting his eyes, Max spins on her heel and locks herself in her room. She double checks that the little nub on the handle is pressed down. The rest of the trailer is quiet as she tries to keep her breaths calm. Trading jean shorts and a tank top for flimsy sleep clothes is what she focuses on instead. Not Neil and his hot eyes on her. Not how much she wishes she were next door instead. Not on how last weekend Billy had popped this same lock on the bathroom door to tease her.

She pushes all that away, climbs into bed, and just shakes for a while. As bad as things had gotten when Mom and Dad were still together, Dad never turned his rage on her. They quarreled amongst each other, bickering and nitpicking one another apart. But Dad never raised his voice or a hand to Max. Dad being mean to her and having a laugh at her was always good fun, well-intentioned teasing. Not unlike Billy laughing at her for getting hurt while skating or walking into one of his double entendres. That thought comforts her, that she may see Billy tomorrow or may at least catch him rolling in when he gets off his midnight shift towing. She can chat his ear off or enjoy the easy silence before he falls asleep on the couch. He never makes her leave when he’s about to crash. So curling up tightly and looking forward to tomorrow, Max drifts to sleep.

At first, she thinks she’s having a wet dream about Billy. Because the hands reaching for her, one holding her shoulder down while the other slips under her thin sleep shirt, are callused and rough. Mean, almost. It’s how she imagines Billy sometimes when she allows herself a fantasy or two. Sometimes he’s sweet with her and smiles at her and talks to her. Comforting her. Otherwise he manhandles her, pushes her down, and laughs in her ear while she struggles a little. But she is never afraid in these fantasies, these dreams. Because at the end of the day, she knows in her heart that Billy won’t hurt her. When the time comes, when they meet each other in the middle of this thing. When she either coaxes it into the light or succumbs and joins it in the shadows. She knows Billy won’t hurt her.

And that’s the difference that startles her awake, that tells her this is not a dream. This is really happening. Because the hand at her breast grows bored and shoves itself down the front of her shorts and her panties, pawing at the tuft of hair between her legs. And it hurts. Fingers pinching, nails biting into her, the drag of skin between her folds far too dry for what they’re trying to do. To force their way into her. The burn of Neil’s fingertip forcing its way in is what finally unlocks Max’s voice.

“No!”

She is a flurry of limbs, then. Kicking her sheet off her, Max strikes out with all ten nails and digs into whatever flesh she finds. Above her, stinking of beer and whisky, Neil hisses as she gouges his brow and over his eye. She gets him with her feet, too, first kicking him in the stomach and then between his legs when he leaps back. He groans and sounds sick, so she kicks him again for good measure. Like a house of cards, he folds to the floor on his knees and curls up around his bruised pride. Max doesn’t linger, just snatches her board to run away. She forgoes socks when she slips her shoes on, so uncoordinated that she folds the heels down to get them on faster. Then the front door explodes open, and she flies into the night. Breathing hard and about to cry, she comes to a screeching halt at the driveway next door. The Camaro is still here. Billy’s bedroom light is on.

Before she knows what she’s doing, before Neil can pick up his broken pieces and come after her, Max slaps on the front window. Billy is awake. Billy is still home. Maybe, maybe he can do something. Hide her, protect her, something. He won’t let Neil touch her, won’t make her go back. Right? Her cheeks are frigid from the desert night and tears when the blinds bend apart, angry eyes narrowed down at her through the slit before seeing her. Acknowledged, Max runs around back to the cars and up the porch stairs right as Billy opens the door. He’s in his uniform. Dark blue work pants and a button-up work shirt with the towing company’s logo on the breast.

“Max? What the hell?”

She drops her board on the porch and launches herself at him. Arms around his neck, she finally unlocks her teeth from around her fear and cries. He catches her with big hands on her back. But his strength buckles a little under her clawing at him, trying to climb him. To get away from Neil, to be safe. Billy won’t let Neil hurt her.

She can’t manage words when Billy wrestles them inside. Front door shut, he cages her in as she cries and gasps into his neck. He’s warm, alive under her tears. Billy smells like his soap and his cologne. Nothing like Neil. He talks to her, but her blood is too loud in her ears. All she thinks about is startling awake in the dark with Neil’s breath on her, his hand shoved so crudely down her underwear. Her clothes are disheveled, but there is no evidence of what he’d done. What he tried to do. Max is just glad she woke up when she did, that she didn’t wake up to worse.

Billy’s hand is too rough, mean when he grabs her chin and shakes her. He barks something like, “Calm down!” But Max doesn’t hear it. She just feels the hand at her chin, controlling her, and reacts.

“Fuck!”

Billy stumbles away from her, clutching his cheek. Under his palm, three lines bead blood from her nails. Max huddles against the door, holding herself with her hands on opposite arms, and just stares up at him. She… She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Did she think he was Neil? Her heart plummets into the pit of her when Billy peels his hand away to look at the blood in his palm. He blinks at her, shocked expression not a comfortable fit on his face.

“You scratched me…” He says it like he needs to hear himself say it to make it real. A slow shake of Billy’s head, and then irritation pinches his face. “Max, what the hell is going on?”

Maybe he finally tunes into her crying. Maybe the way she flinches away from him blows some of the wind out of his sails. Something does it, because he puts his hands up, palms out, and takes a step back.

“Calm down, Max. I’m not gonna touch you, okay? Take a damn breath.”

Her shoulders hunch up by her ears, her hair a tangled mess, but she gives him some jerky nods.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, staring at the blood on his cheek. 

“Don’t worry about that,” he says just as low, as calm as before. He looks her up and down. “Why were you outside dressed like this? Looks like something you’d sleep in.”

“I was, I—” But her throat closes up. She can’t breathe for a spell, just drops her chin into her chest.

Billy sighs, “Okay,” and then shuffles farther away. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch or something and just take a breather. All right?”

The living room is too open. Too many windows. Neil could get her. Somehow. So instead, Max kicks her shoes off and pads silently down the hall for Billy’s room. The light is still on. He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t follow her, either, but she can’t care about that right now. This is as far as her jelly legs will carry her. They’ve wanted to give out the moment she’d stopped running. She’s safe, now, so she collapses on Billy’s bed and buries her face in a pillow. Funny that the last time she did this, it was with ardour and then embarrassment when Billy discovered her. Now, it’s a sanctuary as her back shakes with her silent cries. She bites back terrible noises, clenching her jaw until her teeth hurt. But she won’t carry on. She just… needs a minute. 

The bedroom door is wide open. Max calms down enough to pick up Billy’s side of a hushed, tense conversation. There’s no one else here except his grandpa, so he must be on the phone.

“Something came up,” he insists, grunting through his teeth. “Whatever, man, just call Enrique or someone else, he can take the shift… No, what part of ‘I can’t come in’ do you not understand? … My grandpa fell while trying to take a piss, okay? He might need to go to the hospital. Just fucking call someone else in!”

Is he calling off work? But why? He’s due to be at the tow yard right about now, had probably been about to leave when Max smacked on his window. This was a terrible idea. He’s calling off work for her because she ran over here in hysterics. This would be a big night for him. Plenty of people desperate enough to pay him cash to drop their cars. She’s taking money away from him. It gets her crying again, only now she’s angry at herself. For letting this happen? For not fighting off Neil before he got his hands on her? Something. She’s roped Billy into this. He’ll see she’s more trouble than she’s worth and won’t pay attention to her anymore. Won’t flirt and tease her anymore. Maybe he’ll hate her.

Boots coming down the hall. She flinches.

“It’s just me, little red, cool it.” 

Billy. Calmer now after the phone conversation. Billy calling her ‘little red’ is a good sign. Maybe he’s not mad at her. She can’t take that right now. Billy’s edge. She’s had enough edge tonight.

The air pressure changes, Billy shutting his door, and then something metal thunks onto his nightstand just above her head.

“Got you a beer. Looked like you could use it. I’d offer you pot, but I had plans for your first time with that, so.”

Max picks her head up from the pillow to catch Billy with a can of his own, sighing as he spins around and sits on the floor, back leaning on the bed. Nearer to the foot of the bed. Leaving Max plenty of room to stand and get to the door. If she needs to. The frantic memory of fleeing her own room already blurs in her mind. Like it’d happened to someone else. She feels dirty all over, though. Sore between her legs in a way that’s unlike riding a bike too hard or falling on a rail if she messes up a grind. It’s happened before. Sort of funny when it happens to guys, because it’s like a reset button on them. Oh that’s right. She kicked Neil in the dick. Twice.

Sniffling, Max climbs up onto her elbows. She chuckles watery and scared even while pushing hair out of her face. It’s tangled something awful. Her hands shake too much to pop the top on the beer. Billy pats the bed down by her legs and offers his hand. Gimme. So she hands the beer off and accepts it back after Billy opens it for her. After that, she sits up on a thigh on his bed and sort of nurses the can slowly. Too wild and awake and afraid to sleep, Max fights the buzz of adrenaline leaving her. The door is closed, and Billy is here. She’s thankful for both.

“So,” Billy sighs on the floor. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

It’s a rare moment where they’re together and he’s not looking at her. His legs are bent at the knee with his boots flat to the carpet. His beer is somewhere, because Max knows he wouldn’t have brought one in for himself and not popped it. Arms braced on top of his knees, his ugly hands dangle in the empty space. He stares straight ahead at the wall between his dresser and the tiny closet in the corner. It’s the same as her room. It should make her uncomfortable, should put her back in her bed with Neil leaning over her. But Billy is here, so she stays here.

“I…” Her voice is wrecked, painful, so she swallows a big gulp of beer. It soothes the scratch in her throat. She’s not sure why. “I don’t know where to start…”

“Maybe the beginning?”

He says that with his usual, dry inflection. It’s comforting. She’s not sure she could handle Billy coddling her. It would probably piss her off and give her a reason to make Billy’s cheeks match.

Drawing in a deep breath, Max’s fingers play with the can when she explains, “I came home from the skate spot, and Neil was still awake. He said some bullshit about what I was wearing, and when I gave him attitude, he grabbed me.” Her heart rockets into her throat. The wrist he’d squeezed aches all over again. “But my mom came out and told him to leave me alone. And he did, but I woke up thinking I was dreaming about… well, I thought it was a wet dream, but it was him. I think he was trying to… He had his…”

“Yea, he raped you while you were sleeping. I get it.”

She’s never heard Billy so hollow before. Like he’s not talking to her. Those devil eyes of his won’t look at her no matter how long she stares at the side of his head.

“Yea…”

Billy nods, lifts his beer in a toast.

“Down the hatch.”

She joins him, matching him gulp for gulp. Billy may slam them down in larger quantities than her. But she’s learning to hold her beer. It takes two to make her wobble on her feet, now, where that first PBR he handed her made her woozy after just half. When they pull off with twin gasps, Billy finally cocks his head to look at her.

“Tell me the truth, Max. It’s important if you’re not on birth control. Did he fuck you?”

Oh. She hadn’t even thought about that. How terrifying that would be. If she weren’t on the pill. 

Max shakes her head at the same time she says, “No, he… he used his hands. I’m on the pill anyway, so…”

Billy turns back to the wall and sags into the bed. Relief.

“Well, at least there’s that. Count yourself lucky, little red. It could be worse.” Billy sits there for a second with his head tipped back into the mattress. His hair is caught in a bun at the back of his head. For work. When he opens his eyes, it’s to stare at the popcorn ceiling. “I’ll warn you it’s only gonna get worse from here on out. He tried it once, he’ll try it again. He won’t stop.”

The aluminum can between her hands crinkles when her fingers tighten around it.

Blue eyes roll until they see her.

“And I don’t say that to scare you or make light of it. I’m being serious. He won’t stop.”

“I kicked him in the dick. Twice.”

Sputtering and then immediately laughing, Billy sits up, his entire demeanor flipping like a light switch.

“Holy shit, are you serious? Swear to god.”

“To Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.”

Billy cracks into a huge grin but smooths a hand over his moustache and mouth to cover it up. Giddy like a little boy. When his hand drops away, he just shakes his head and looks at her anew. Pride washing over him.

“Damn, didn’t know my little red had it in her. Kicked the old man right in the family jewels. I wish you were wearing shoes, to be honest, give him something to remember you by, right?”

He laughs, and his laughter raises her spirits. But there’s still the matter of how filthy she feels and how she still aches from Neil’s dry fingers trying to push into her. 

Leaving the beer on Billy’s nightstand, Max hugs her knees to her chest and mumbles, “Sorry I scratched you. I didn’t mean to freak out.”

Billy shrugs.

“That’s what I get for putting my hands on you. Shoulda known something was up, crying as hard as you were. Lucky for my dick you didn’t give me the same treatment.”

He winks at her. The smile she hides behind her knees is watery. She wants him to sit up here with her and hold her. Pet her. Something. They haven’t touched since she’d stirred awake beside him on the couch with his hand in her hair. Oh, her hair…

Voice cracking a few times, Max asks, “Do you have a brush or comb I can use?”

Billy gives her hair a once over before nodding. His keys jingle in his pocket when he stands, leaving his beer on top of his dresser. Not going far, Billy just opens the door to dip into the bathroom. He returns with a blue comb with the word ‘unbreakable’ in bold relief on it. Max doubts that, wouldn’t put it past Billy to have snapped a comb just like this in half. To prove he could. She snorts at the thought, anything better than her replaying her memories of Neil over and over, and begins the process of detangling her hair. As Billy goes to reclaim his spot on the floor, Max stops him.

“You can sit up here.”

He pauses with his knees already bent. Watching her carefully.

Max turns her eyes down, shrugs, and mumbles, “It’s your bed.”

Billy must read the atmosphere. That she wants him close. That his presence doesn’t scare her like it had when she scratched him. She’s past that hysterical, blind panic. Still, Billy only claims the foot of the bed. The wall serves as his backrest, and his powerful legs stretch out in front of him. His boots are still on, so he sits up and tugs them off, dumping them in the corner by the closet. The bedroom is quiet and calm as Max starts at the ends of her hair and works her way up. It’s only badly tangled in a few spots. She makes quick work of it despite being tender headed.

While she combs the roots, though, Billy shifts at her feet. Her legs are stretched out, too, no longer so scared and vulnerable that she needs to scrunch up. He rests a paw of a hand beside one of her ankles. Drums his fingers on the sheet. When Max nudges her foot to poke his forearm with a toe, he carefully scoops his hand under her ankle. Not to shackle her. Not to trap her. Just cupping the joint and her Achilles tendon in his hand. His thumb pets over the bump of bone. They watch him pet her together, and then their eyes lift as one as they hold that stare. Billy touching her now doesn’t scare her at all. After a shower, she may be able to fall asleep. If Billy lets her stay here.

“Can I take a shower?”

Billy slips his hand away from Max’s ankle with a squeeze and flicks his fingers towards the bathroom.

“Be my guest. You want some clothes?”

She nods.

“Be my guest twice. Shit I sleep in is in the dresser, top drawer.”

Scooting to the edge of the bed, she can’t help the natural banter between them when she asks with a smirk, “Am I gonna find anything interesting when I open that drawer?”

Billy’s laugh comes out as huffs through his nose. His grin is easy and toothy. Normal.

“No, but if you open the drawer of my nightstand I won’t be held responsible for what you find.”

Max twists around to stare at said drawer. Truth be told, this is only her second time in Billy’s room. And both times she hasn’t exactly been snooping around. So she never noticed it there before. She’s curious, almost rocks her weight back onto her thigh to open it. Almost.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says while sticking her tongue out at him. Billy’s laid back attitude helps coax her out of her shell. Being alone in the bathroom though… 

Chewing her lip while climbing to her feet, Max asks, “Can I ask you something weird? I know you’re gonna razz on me so…”

“Shoot.”

“Will you like… just…” She sighs and turns to face him. Billy hasn’t moved from his spot against the wall, legs still sticking out. “Will you just hang out in the bathroom while I’m in there? I don’t really wanna be alone right now.”

The casual expression he’d sported while listening to her curls into a lazy smile.

“You don’t gotta ask me twice.”

If not for the dour circumstances, she would tease him. Call him a pervert. And that would encourage more mischief out of Billy. Escalating things, which is what they seem to do best. They are kindred spirits in that regard. Now isn’t the time. Max barely manages to flash him a smile of gratitude. Billy nods his head to the dresser, hurry up, and she does. It’s an AC/DC t-shirt this time with the red of the lettering peeling off. Just as old and worn as the Metallica t-shirt. Which she has yet to give back. Unlike her, Billy gave her clothes back, although he teased her initially and withheld her panties. Claiming he wasn’t going to keep them, just wanted to see what she’d do. If she would notice. Billy didn’t ask about his borrowed clothes. Until he does? She’ll forget to remind him. 

Chosen sleep clothes in hand, she leads him into the bathroom. Or well Max steps into the bathroom and then turns around to brace a hand in the center of Billy’s chest.

“You know people generally take their clothes off and  _ then _ get in the shower, right?”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

How she wishes she had the heart to play this game with him. Twice in a row, now, she’s missing out. But if Billy is going to do this for her, Max needs to draw a line in the sand. None of their usual banter and games. So, she nudges him. Billy’s weight rests in her hand, palm meeting solid muscle under his uniform. They both know there’s no way she can push him away. He holds himself there for a second more, staring down his nose at her. And then he relents while sucking his teeth.

“Hurry up. I didn’t take a caffeine pill yet, so I’m still super fuckin’ tired.”

He steps out of the bathroom and accepts the door being shut in his face. Well, nearly shut. Max doesn’t push it closed to latch it. Slapping the water on first to get it hot, she sheds her clothes to the floor just like last time and leaves Billy’s loans on the back of the toilet. The toilet seat is up—Max rolls her eyes—so she lowers it and the lid in quick succession. Billy can sit, if he wants. Which, what with how close he’ll be to Max, she doubts he’ll refuse. She’s not comfortable enough to flirt with him right now. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want him near her. Stepping into the spray and snapping the clear liner shut, Max hopes Billy understands the difference.

“Okay, you can come in, now.”

The bathroom already has a fair amount of steam fogging up the mirror. Billy doesn’t walk in right away. Maybe he’s changed his mind? There’s pretty much no chance Billy would give up an opportunity to be welcomed this close while Max is naked. He was so eager last time. Max hugs herself with water soaking her combed hair, growing nervous, when Billy finally appears. In his underwear and nothing else.

“Oh my god,” she whispers under her breath.

“What?” He huffs. “It’s so humid in here I’m gonna have to peel my balls off my thigh. Have a heart, Max, for me and my balls.”

Too tired for this, she mumbles, “Don’t be gross,” and reaches for Billy’s shampoo. The toilet lid clicks against the seat when Billy sits down. No directions required.

Billy is somehow always good at reading the atmosphere around her. Or at least when they’re together. He knows when to be more or less aggressive when they’re flirting. When Max is talking about something more serious and needs Billy to be more serious with her. Or times like now when she needs his silence. And he gives it. Beyond the foggy liner, she watches him sometimes as she washes. Arms crossed over his chest, he sort of leans back against the toilet tank and leaves his legs spread open. Why he always has to sit like that, she doesn’t know. It’s obnoxious, so it suits him.

It’s easy until she rolls Billy’s bar of soap around her hands and then reaches for the last bits of her that need washing. Gun shy, she doesn’t want to confuse her own hands for Neil. No one has ever tried to do that. Any boy she traded uncoordinated make-outs with got kicked or punched if he tried anything. She wasn’t about to become the next victim of the gossip grapevine. She hears all about girls who put out. They’re easy. They’re sluts. It’s not the girl’s fault, Max knows that. People are just cruel. Guys can sleep around and fuck whoever they want. A girl does the same and gets labeled a whore. No thanks to that vicious cycle.

“Max.”

Billy’s voice cuts through her loud thoughts. She’s facing away from him. Not like either of them see anything through the liner.

“Y-yea?”

“You were breathin’ real hard. Take a breath, nobody’s coming in here.” Billy sits up off his tailbone, straightening on the toilet lid. Lower, he promises, “Neil can’t get you here. You know you’re safe with me.”

Of course she is. That’s why the sight of his bedroom light on had slammed her panic into a wall upon seeing it. Why she didn’t skate or run any farther. Because Billy was here. This is as far as she needed to go to find safety. There’s a Metallica song about that. Or something close. ‘Trust I seek, and I find in you.’ It’s a lot calmer than their other songs Max has heard. She’s surprised Billy even likes it. But it’s fitting here. So, she takes a breath and lets it out all nice and slow like.

“Thanks.”

There are no more hiccups after that. Not that Max becomes less delicate. It’s just that nothing disturbs her. Nothing trips her up for a blessed moment. Shower turned off and not interested in shivering, Max smacks at the liner.

“I’m stepping out, now.”

“You can come out, I won’t look.”

Her arms cross over her chest on reflex.

“Oh yea, like I’m gonna believe that for a second.”

“It would be pretty scummy of me to peek at a girl who just got raped. I have some standards.”

That knocks Max off the rails.

“Neil didn’t rape me, I told you, he only—”

“Did you say yes?”

Max blinks at the blob of Billy through the liner. He sits forward, forearms on his thighs. He looks at Max, too.

“What?”

“Did you say yes? At any point did Neil ask you to have sex and then you said yes? Answer the question, Max.”

His edge cuts her too deeply, and she whimpers, “No?”

A hard sigh. Billy leans back against the tank again. Tones his voice down.

“Doesn’t matter what he stuck in you, Max. If you didn’t say yes, then he raped you. That’s how consent works. He didn’t ‘try’ to rape you, he raped you.”

Billy’s disgusted eye roll leaks into his voice. Max sees it clearly in her mind. He is… more upset about this than she’d thought he would be. Billy is trashy, so she assumed he would blame her. For the way she dressed or something. It would hurt her deeply, but it wouldn’t surprise her. This whole thing shook her, true, but she isn’t angry yet. Maybe that will come. But Billy practically steams in the silence. It’s… strangely touching.

“Okay,” she says softly. “Okay, he raped me. There.”

“Good. Now get out, I’m about to fall asleep on the toilet, which wouldn’t be the first time.”

When Max pokes her head out of the far side of the shower, she finds crossed arms and closed eyes. Still, he could be peeking. Those long lashes if his, enough to make any girl envious, could cover for him. The towel is just out of her reach to yank it and use the slight modesty the liner gives her. She has to step out, expose some part of her. Hating that she’s even hesitating, because normally she wouldn’t, she’d play the game, Max forces herself out. Nervous, Max tries to angle herself away from Billy. His face is carefully blank, lips a little stern under his moustache. A little too stern.

Pursing her own amusement between her lips, Max mutters, “You’re peeking at my ass right now, aren’t you.”

It’s not a question. She watches Billy’s mouth twitch.

“… Okay, maybe a little bit.” Max sighs, of course he is, but Billy continues with, “In my defense, when I see a pretty girl, I look at her. It’s the simple facts of life, little red.”

His perverted affection just makes her snort. Who that charm works on, she’s not sure. If Billy treats all girls like this. There is still a tiny part of her that thinks maybe he swings both ways. This would probably work better on a guy. Some square who would be oblivious to Billy’s flirting. It would be funny to watch Billy miss every shot he took. Some humility would put him in his place. Max huffs to not laugh and then have to explain why she’s laughing. Billy wouldn’t take it too kindly. 

“Whatever, pervert, keep your eyes to yourself. You said I was safe with you, remember?”

He grumbles and leans harder into the tank. Billy’s version of pouting about not getting his way. With his head tilted back all dramatically like that, she believes he’s not peeking anymore. She takes the time to squeeze water out of her hair before folding the towel around her. The bathroom door opens with a click. She hadn’t heard Billy lock it, same as she didn’t hear Neil pick hers. It’s a chilling thought. That maybe tonight wasn’t Neil’s first night in her room. But also that he knows how to pick the locks. Max’s room is no longer safe.

“Billy?” She asks, so small, with her back to the foggy bathroom.

“Yea?”

Her lip is in her teeth, but she has to ask. The worst Billy will say is no.

“There’s another bedroom here, right? Between the living room and the bathroom?”

“Yea?” He parrots. “My weights are in there, but there’s a couch too. Why?”

“Do you think I could… start sleeping here? Maybe?”

He is silent when he rises, but his body blocks the humid hair brushing over her. All the peach fuzz on Max, especially along the nape of her neck, rises to the point of pain. Billy doesn’t touch her. He’s just close enough to feel in the charge along her skin.

“You really trust me, huh.”

“Give me a reason not to.”

“I peeked at you when you stepped out of the shower.”

Max scoffs, “Yea, and I knew you would. It’s you.” She glances up and over her shoulder, finds Billy already looking down at her. “But you stopped when I said something. So. Give me a reason not to trust you.”

Theoretically, she has plenty. He makes eyes at her, a 16 year old, all the time. Max says this to him regularly to remind him. He is mean for meanness’ sake. He cheats his job out of money. Despite all that staring her in the face constantly? She knows that he has an honor code of sorts. Once, Billy had explained how he came to live here with his grandpa, that he is the man’s caretaker. And Billy is. He keeps the Cadillac running, drives it when his grandpa needs trips out. Mostly to doctor visits, sometimes social visits. Max knows because Billy bitches about being a taxi. But he still does it, still cooks meals for his grandpa and keeps the place… mostly clean. Billy has also not tried anything with her. Window shopped, yes, but actually come into the store and look around, buy anything? Not yet. Those thoughts are beyond Max right now as Billy hands her sleep clothes over her shoulder.

“You can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch,” he mumbles. He doesn’t give her a chance to reply, just gestures for her to take the clothes. “Gonna need these unless you wanna give me a show.”

Max flattens her light amusement between her lips, thankful for Billy’s crass humor now more than ever. Towel safely pinned under her arm, Max reaches around to take Billy’s clothes. It’s just a left turn into his room, and Billy shuts the door behind them. Doesn’t lock it, because the damp towel will need to find its way back into the bathroom before they sleep. Max lingers on Billy’s offer about sleeping in his bed instead of in the spare bedroom with his weights. Neil uses that space as an office. The door is always shut. Max has never actually been in that room, only snuck glimpses inside when she would cross Neil’s path coming and going from said room. Then again, the thought of lying down alone in a new place after everything that’s happened…

She’s back on Billy’s bed, clothed and chewing on the inside of her cheek. Billy sways in front of his closet, hanging his uniform back up. No point in leaving it on the floor when it’s clean. So is he, having showered sometime earlier today before lying down to sleep. He must be tired, since there isn’t a whole lot of time for him to come home off his normal Friday shift, sleep, and then wake up around 11:30 to come back at midnight, Saturday. Billy’s eyes are barely open at this point. He’d meant what he said about almost falling asleep on the toilet.

“Billy?”

He plops on his own bed, leaning back on his hands braced behind him. He cracks one eye open to look at her.

“What?”

“Will you sleep in here with me? For tonight.”

That one eye slips shut.

“If that’s what you want. Sleep on the edge, I don’t want you climbing over me if you have to get up.”

“What makes you think I want you climbing over me?”

Pale lips barely move when Billy mumbles, “Because the moment my head hits the pillow, I’m gonna pass out and be passed out for a while. So sleep on the edge or go sleep on the couch.”

They both know she’ll stay here. Max shakes her hair free from the towel, picks up Billy’s comb from earlier, and then rises for the bathroom. The towel ends up draped over the curtain rod. It should be dry by morning, if Billy needs it. He doesn’t work during the day on Saturday, has Sunday off period. Something about the owner being religious. Neil is but doesn’t drag them to church. Thank Christ. Max combing her hair is a numb affair despite the snort she gives her thoughts. She’ll probably wake up with her hair a mess anyway from sleeping on it wet. Whatever. Slapping the lights off while standing in the hallway, Max slips into Billy’s room and shuts the door.

On the bed, Billy has already claimed the side closest to the wall. He lies on his left side with an arm curled under his pillow, facing the empty space for Max. Breaths even and quiet, he could be asleep for all Max knows. Invisible weight tugs at Max’s eyelids. She was only asleep for maybe an hour when Neil attacked her. Billy isn’t the only tired one. Now all Max has to decide is if she wants to face Billy or leave her back to him. Because she suspects that the moment she lies down? Billy’s other arm casually curled to his chest will scoop her up. Unless she tells him not to. She makes her decision while flicking the light off, veil of darkness sweeping in. 

When his arm slips over her waist, hand cupping the small of her back, Max doesn’t even make a sound. Rather than wiggle down and tuck herself under Billy’s chin, she stays level with him on the pillows. His bed is almost too small to fit them comfortably. But they fit better than they would on hers. Max waits for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Billy has curtains drawn over the blinds. They must have been pulled back when she banged on the window earlier. She glances away from the thin sliver of moonlight leaking in when she catches the wets of Billy’s eyes. Awake enough to watch her. 

“Max,” he grumbles in the dark. 

“What? I thought you said you would pass out.”

Billy’s hand, comfortable on her back, slides up and finds her jaw in the dark. Max tries not to flinch. Because this is Billy. But she can’t ignore the scrape of calluses. Billy doesn’t let her go, doesn’t fight her either. Just holds her. 

“What he did to you… it doesn’t change who you are. You didn’t do anything to deserve that. Neil’s a bastard.”

It’s as close as Billy will get to sympathy. To a sympathetic ‘I’m sorry.’ Max knows that, reads between the lines even though she’s about to fall asleep, too. It’s touching. For a trashy jerk, Billy must frown heavily on rape. Or maybe it’s just about her. Max won’t dig into it, just closes her eyes and sighs on the soft inside of Billy’s wrist. 

“I know what you’re trying to say, Billy. Thanks.”

Fingertips at her jaw twitch. Billy holds her still as he shifts in front of her. He sits up on an elbow, casting her in his shadow. Max freezes in his gentle grip as the heat of him washes over her. Against the AC playing games with her back through his t-shirt, his body heat is a rush. She shivers like fingers play showtunes up and down her back.

Max jumps when thin lips brush her cheek. Billy’s moustache scratches her. One kiss. A pause, and then again. They lift a third time to kiss closer to the corner of her mouth. Max’s next shiver has nothing to do with the clash of temperatures or any sort of excitement. Wedging both hands between them, she pushes on Billy’s chest. Away from her. 

“Billy, don’t. I-I can’t right now, I—”

“I’m not gonna do anything to you, Max. I just wanted to kiss you goodnight. That’s all.”

She recalls the conversation she had with herself earlier. About needing a little bit of shelter, some safety, and running to Billy to get it. Max also reminds herself that he could have kissed her any time tonight. As highly inappropriate and ill-timed as it is. So… maybe he means it. No ulterior motive. Just comfort. He’s shite at it. So Max just huffs in his face and pushes her strength against his chest. 

“Goodnight, Billy,” she says firmly.

Billy holds her still for one more kiss. The actual corner of her mouth this time. His lips make the softest wet sound when he pulls away. 

She feels his deeply murmured, “Goodnight, Max,” more than she hears it. 

When Billy’s arm slips back to holding her around her waist, yanking her close, she lets go of her irritation from Billy being cheeky and stealing another kiss. He has an honor code, yes. But he’s still Billy. Still trashy. She would rather cuddle close to him than anyone else in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commenter mentioned prompts and taking requests. Historically, I am absolute shite at responding to prompts. Things/other people's ideas almost never inspire me. That's no fault of the person's input, I just prefer to come up with everything myself. Bit of a control freak. BUT I don't mind trying? to cater? a little bit? Especially because I'm having a lot of fun writing these two. And we're a tiny group, so like why not try to interact as best I can behind the Anon author wall (sorry about that folks, don't feel like having 17 year olds on Twitter harassing me _again_ ).
> 
> So if you want? If you have a simple/smut idea you've wanted to see for Billy/Max, leave it in the comments. The only things I'll firmly put my foot down are: pregnancy, kid fics of any sort, and the sort of kinks nearly everyone says no to (piss/shit etc).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's me again, lovely readers. A special wink and ;* to my commenters. You're all so generous with your time and your attention to my work. I thank you kindly.
> 
> Buckle the fuck up, lads, this shit is ~17,500 words. So you can imagine =3c what might happen to make the word count so... Large. So remember to take breaks and get up. Drink some water, you're gonna wanna stay hydrated. Please let me know what you think! Y'all are pretty much my only interaction with Billy/Max content and other fans so u~u Y'all and some twitter buddies. With that in mind =3c Please see the bottom AN for some important input offers!
> 
> Friday I'll be posting a one-shot titled "Left Handed," please keep an eye out for that~
> 
> Two songs for this chapter. A [Billy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4xtFdXJP0A) focused song and a [Max](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSXiNSiiCsg) focused song.

When Max wakes, she’s facing away from Billy. A solid wall of radiant heat and muscle behind her. Awake. The in-and-out puffs of his breaths are calm on the nape of her neck between kisses to the peach fuzz there. Sometimes Billy’s kisses are chaste. Sometimes they have a bit of suction. The long curtain of her hair is swept away, surely Billy’s doing to gain access to her. She tunes in next to his hand covering her navel. He’s gone and slipped under her sleep shirt to touch her, sometimes shifts his hand to pet her belly. She draws the line at the firmness pressed to the bottom curve of her ass, though. Especially when Billy rocks his hips forward. She opens her mouth to object right at the same time that Billy gently bites her nape.

Jolting hard in his arms, Max squeals, “What are you doing?!”

“Oh you’re awake,” Billy slurs on the back of her neck. He kisses the buzzing spots where his teeth had been. 

A second jolt shakes her, although not as hard as the first.

“Well I am now thanks to you rubbing your dick on me and biting me like an animal.”

Billy’s lazy grin is thick in his voice when he purrs, “You liked it. You were making cute noises earlier.”

His voice is so much heavier when he first wakes up. Each word is rolled over coals and steams in her ear, which he sits up enough to nip the lobe. He can see her face, now, see the way her eyes slam shut, how her brow wrinkles as she fights a noise. Something embarrassing that will only get him chuckling. Encouragement. Max flexes her right hand to chase sleep from it and grabs Billy’s wrist where it peeks out from under her shirt. She doesn’t tug him away, just holds him to stop his careful petting.

“Billy…”

She hears his eye roll when he groans, “What? I wasn’t gonna do anything.”

“So your hand under my shirt and biting me  **and** your dick poking me is nothing? Cuz that doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Darting back down, Billy huffs on her exposed nape and kisses her again for her troubles. His teeth scrape her when he ends it.

“You know, when I woke up, your shirt was all rolled up and your tits were out. I could have very easily had fun with that. Instead”—he takes his hand away, gets her by her hip, and rolls her onto her back—“I pulled your damn shirt back down and held you. So yea, this is nothing. Cute nips, by the way.”

Max blushes to her hairline at the thought of Billy waking up to her like that. It’s just skin, but it's her skin, and she knows he’d enjoyed looking at her before setting her to rights. There’s no way he didn’t sit up like he does now and just looked everywhere. Didn’t touch, but he certainly looked. Max doesn’t have much to look at. It’s still private, though. She makes a face up at him, but the expression shifts to nervous shyness when he cups her jaw again. Like last night. Only now sunlight slips through the gaps in the curtain. The darkness had made her bold enough to watch his silhouette. Now he’s just here, bending down slowly. His thumb twitches and then brushes over her bottom lip. Just once. Her little hand shoots up and covers his mouth, blocking whatever path he means to take. Blue eyes narrow at her, but he gives her no fight.

“You have gross morning breath,” she points out, almost unable to meet his devil eyes. They’re too intense right now.

Now he fights back, and Max cannot rip her hand away from his tongue fast enough. Gritting her teeth over another squeal, it’s her turn to glare up at his smug grin.

“Okay, so hypothetically speaking, if I  _ didn’t _ have gross morning breath, would you let me kiss you?”

He cocks his head just so, some curls slipping forward to brush the side of his neck. That grin is a powerful one to match his erection pressed to her thigh. Not as hard as earlier against her ass, slowly going down without attention. But he’s still hard, and this is a lot, and Max curls up a little to shy away from him. It cools the heat in his grin, bringing it back down to something more approachable.

“Don’t you think this is a little fast?”

“Oh, are we finally gonna talk about this?”

Billy would just break her neck with the topic change. She flushes all the harder, knows exactly what he means by ‘this.’

Gently, she reminds him, “I’m 16.”

An eyebrow flicks up at her. The scarred one.

“Pretty sure you’ve used that excuse before, and I’m pretty sure I made it clear I don’t care.” Peeling his hand from Max’s jaw, Billy props himself up with his forearm. It curls above her head as he leans deeper into her personal space. The warm, sleepy scent of him washes over her when he says, eyes on hers, “I won’t tell if you won’t, little red.”

Another jolt spears through her, only this time it’s not to flinch away from Billy or out of shock. She squirms under his intense stare that eats her up. Him being so close, so open about his desire for her is exciting and scary. Maybe it would be less scary if last night hadn’t happened. She doesn’t see or smell or feel Neil with Billy practically on top of her right now. No, she knows exactly whose firm body is hot like burning along her side, whose fingers sort of tangle in her hair. To play with it while she mulls this over. She throws tiny, shy glances up at Billy, shoulders becoming neighbours to her ears, when Billy sighs. Backs off a little.

“I get it, okay? I get that the timing of all this is fucking shitty. If Neil hadn’t raped you, you wouldn’t be so gun shy right now. I get it, Max.”

Billy sits up all the way on his ass, drags a hand through his hair. Sighs like he’s tired all over again. Max turns onto her right side to watch the muscles in his back shift. Oh, that’s right, he’d gone to bed in nothing but his underwear. His skin isn’t all that private, not like hers, so she forgot all about it. Plus… him holding her all night felt good. Right. They fit so well together. And whenever she cuddled him back, all the honey heat of him was for her to touch. Even now, she flicks her left hand out so shy to draw her fingers over his side. That earns her a look, a twist of his head to actually see her.

“I know what it’s like,” he says almost as an afterthought. Not looking at her for once.

Heart skipping a beat and painful, Max sits up in one fluid motion. They’re close again, and now Billy reaches out to rest a hand on one of her thighs. She lets him, covers his hand because it feels? Like the right thing to do? Always escalating, Billy flips his hand over to hold hers instead. His fingertips graze her pulse on the inside of her wrist. They stare down at their hands as tension threatens to close Max’s throat. But she has to know what he means by that.

“Billy what… what’s that supposed to mean?”

Billy gives a useless shrug.

“I know what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night to some sweaty pig on top of you. Guys can be raped too, Max.”

Sadness floods her. Initially. But this is Billy. He could be fibbing to get on her good side. She knows he still wants to kiss her and fool around. Neil raping her doesn’t change that. So she tempers her sadness and bows her head to force him to meet her eyes. Blue on blue.

“If you’re joking right now or-or just saying that to—”

“You know I’m not,” he says lowly. His hand tightens around hers, fingers pressing harder to her pulse. “I’ve never told anyone that before, Max. If you think I’m saying this shit to get in your pants, then that’s on you.”

He’s already retreating, shying away after sharing something so private. She reaches for him without thinking, her sadness breaking the dam she’d walled up to guard herself from Billy’s tricks. This is no trick, no lie. He won’t look at her again, something so viscerally wrong with that. So Max sits up on her knees and threads her arms around his neck. Like last night when she needed him. Maybe he doesn’t need her in the same way, too emotionally stunted to need someone, but she offers all the same. Still, that’s not enough to prepare her for Billy twisting at the waist, grabbing her by the hips, and lifting her.

Unfortunately for Billy’s ears, she squeaks right in one. Luckily for anything of Billy’s within kicking range, he doesn’t drag her far. Just over his lap, and then he nudges her legs apart to make her straddle him. With Max secure in his lap, Billy slings his arms low on her hips and crushes her to his chest. It knocks the breath out of her. Max grunts in his ear and thinks about retaliating. But maybe he wants her close like this and just couldn’t say it? It makes sense to Max, and she rests her head on his shoulder, face nearly tucked to his neck. As always, he’s like a space heater. The heat of him is delicious as it fights the chill of the AC that sinks into her. 

And then firmness nudges her ass. Again.

“Oh my god,” she mutters. “Are you seriously hard right now?”

Silence. Max practically feels Billy’s smugness. His hands slip around to hold her hips. He thumbs the elastic of the shorts he’s loaned her. Sometimes the flicks of his thumbs send him under the shirt to graze skin. Cheeky. She decides now that if he grinds into her like some boys have tried while making out, she’ll slap him.

Billy turns his head to find her ear and murmurs, “Sorry, little red, just couldn’t help myself. I can make it up to you, though.”

His hands tighten at her hips. Squeezing. Max fights the flutter of her eyes. Why does that feel so good and make her shiver?

She wrestles back her control just as quickly, barks with her cheeks on fire, “If you rub your dick on me again, I’m going to slap you.”

“Almost worth the risk. Maybe I should teach you how to throw a real punch.”

“Only if I get to practice on you.”

He chuckles in her ear, nosing her hair out of the way, and purrs, “Oh I’ll give you something to practice on me all right.”

Max takes him by the shoulders and pushes herself away. Billy slips his left hand around to the small of her back to keep her close, but he lets her up. Sure enough, when she sits back on his thighs to see him, his grin is filthy. His eyebrows waggle at her.

“Don’t be gross,” she huffs. “I actually was trying to have a moment with you, and you ruined it.”

“Awww, thanks little red, that’s real sweet of you. I promise I’m over it, though. It happened a long time ago.”

Billy is only 24. ‘A long time ago’ isn’t that much time for him. Unless he was young when it happened, which Max refuses to think about. Instead, she busies herself with leaning back when Billy encroaches on her space. Aiming for her lips again, most likely.

“Billy don’t. I mean it, okay? I’m not playing around.”

His mouth screws up and his eyes narrow at her, but he stops chasing her.

“Okay, I won’t kiss you on the mouth… On the cheek instead?”

Give boys an inch and they’ll think you owe them the world. It’s a lesson she’d learned the hard way once. She doesn’t want a repeat. Billy kissing her last night was… nice. The prick of his moustache on her cheek was unexpected. She didn’t think she’d feel it. Maybe if they kissed for real, sure. His lips are softer than she thought, too. Hers rolled flat, Max continues to hold him at bay by his shoulders while she considers him. The small part of her that thinks Billy is trouble is rather silent right now. Maybe because he actually listened to her last night. He’s still Billy, still a pervert. But an honorable pervert, as much of an oxymoron as that is.

“Fine,” she grumbles, looking away. Grey-blue eyes zip right back to him, though, when Billy perks up. “On the cheek. That’s it.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he promises with a wink.

Max promises herself to hold him to that. If he’s cheeky right now, he’s got a one-way ticket to Slap Town, USA. She may hurt her hand more than him while doing it, but he won’t come out unscathed. Max eyes the thin lines from her nails already scabbed over. Refusing to revisit her guilt over that, Max turns her head and offers her left cheek. She could make it a point to grab him by the hair or to crane her neck at a weird angle to make sure he can’t steal anything more. But she trusts him. If he breaks that trust, well, then he breaks it fully aware of the consequences.

Nervous in the daylight, Max’s eyes slam shut the moment Billy leans into her. He coaxes her closer, to meet him halfway. His chest doesn’t take her weight again like when he’d crushed her to him. But he is all around her when he nuzzles her with the tip of his nose and then kisses her cheek. Chaste and simple. Lingering just long enough to press a little firmly to the softness he finds there. Long enough for his moustache to tickle her. And then it’s over, him sitting back and not trying to take more. As he promised.

“There, see? I’m not a complete scumbag.”

“You’re still hard, though.”

Billy scoffs and rolls his eyes. It’s a move Max knows well. She does it all the time, now. She sucks her teeth like he does, too. 

“I can’t be held responsible for that,” he reasons with a shrug. “It has a mind of its own.” Max opens her mouth to retort, but Billy just pulls her close again and asks, “So. If I call off work tonight, will you hang out with me? I was thinking about going up to Indio for a few hours. Cash from the car drops is sort of burning a hole in my pocket.”

Saturday nights are even more lucrative for him. She’d already taken Friday night from him.

Brows coming together, Max asks, “Are you sure? You’re not gonna get fired or anything, are you?”

“Nah, the guy who owns the tow company is a racist asshole, and I’m his only white employee. I could probably tell him I’m stealing from him and he’d pat me on the back. I’m untouchable at that place.”

Max’s face wrinkles in disgust.

“That’s awful. Why do you work for a guy like that?”

“Do you see a lot going on around here, Max? I drive nearly 45 minutes to Indio just for tows. There’s not exactly an abundance of jobs here.”

And Billy can’t leave, because there’s no one else here to take care of his grandpa. So Max doesn’t even bother going down that route.

“What were you planning on doing while you were there?”

It’s not a rejection, so Billy’s mild annoyance with her melts back into flirty interest. Anything short of a firm ‘no’ from Max is a green light to Billy.

“There’s a mall. And some places to skate. Movie theater.”

Ah, she thinks she peeks under the tarp of his casual interest to see his intentions. Maybe not to butter her up but the trip is for her sake. Maybe to cheer her up from the nightmare of last night. He’s mentioned time and time again of taking her up there. He mentioned an arcade, too, and as much as a new skate spot appeals to her, she hasn’t slapped MDX—for Mad Max—on the high score screen of a game all summer.

“What about the arcade?”

Billy’s hands at her hips squeeze again like earlier. She almost forgets to fight the shiver that immediately vibrates through her. Billy probably feels it anyway, his smirk turning a little oily as he watches her.

“I think it’s still open. We can drive by and check.”

Much like Billy’s righteous anger on her behalf last night, this is strangely touching. Billy is all slick grins and even slicker eyes on her. But the thread of comfort lies just underneath. He means to distract her with his hooded stare, but she sees his tenderness. She won’t tease him about it, though. Billy in a bad mood is just frustration for her. And not the good kind.

“Okay,” she says with a tentative smile. “I have to go back and change… I have another skateboard, too, if you want…”

Grin still easy, he leans forward. Slow and gradual, letting her know without words what he’s going to do. Max turns the same cheek to him, the left, and she closes her eyes just as before when he kisses her.

“Max,” he murmurs against her cheek.

She hums, not trusting her voice. She barely trusts herself to breathe, let alone talk. It’s only by Billy’s grip on her that her shiver doesn’t shake her apart.

“When you’re ready for that kiss, let me know.”

He backs off, is waiting for her when she opens her eyes, and then winks. 

“Whatever, pervert, let’s just go already.”

Billy stands guard at the Camaro, dressed in jeans and a grey wifebeater when Max sneaks back into the trailer. It’s already hot enough to bead sweat on them and it’s not even 9 AM yet. Neil’s pick-up and Mom’s Buick are still parked outside. When Max pokes her head into the living room, she finds it empty and quiet. The master bedroom door is shut. She walks backwards down the hall to her room, door still thrown wide open from her escape. The bed is in disarray, the sheet she sleeps with twisted on the floor, one of her pillows down there with it.

There is no evidence that Neil had been here—the thing going bump in the night. Max throws off Billy’s clothes, hides them in the bottom of her closet, and tugs on clean clothes of her own. Not sure how challenging the skate spot in Indio will be, she opts for jeans and a tank top. To match Billy. She can take some road rash on her arms. Won’t be the first time. She lingers long enough to braid her hair and snatch her spare skateboard from her closet. She’ll of course claim the one already in the trunk of Billy’s car for herself. Billy can use this one.

In and out of the trailer like a ghost, Max only leaves a note for Mom left tacked to her bedroom door. It says ‘skating around town, be back late.’ She won’t be back at all, she knows. Because when she and Billy are done bumming around Indio, she’ll be following him back into his grandpa’s trailer for the night. No way in hell will she risk her own bed. Not until she improvises a more secure lock or maybe enlists Billy’s help in buying a better one. One that cannot be picked. That’s what must have happened, she realizes while they’re on the road northbound. Neil must have picked the lock as easily as Billy. It’s a chilling thought, that he snuck right in, that she didn’t wake until it was almost too late.

“Hey,” Billy snaps over the radio, reaching over to turn it down. The windows are rolled up tightly. Billy had retrofitted the Camaro with an AC system himself. He’s rather proud of it. “What are you thinking about, little red, come on. You got that thousand-yard stare. This is supposed to be a fun day, so out with it.”

She meets his thin glance, bordering on a glare. Max gives it back as good as she gets it. But she sighs and gives up, knowing this is how Billy expresses concern. Poorly. Snapping at him and fighting him will just wind him up more. He’s right. This is supposed to be a fun day for them. Together. ‘No need to be a bitch,’ she hears him say in her head.

“It felt weird to be in my room, thinking that the last time I was in there was when I ran away from Neil.” She shrugs, looks out the window at the valley passing them, the mountains in the distance. “I think he picked the lock to my door. Like you did in the bathroom when I was showering that first time.”

“Probably the same type of door knob, so yea, that tracks. I’d offer to replace it for you, but I wouldn’t step foot in that trailer for all the money in the world, so.”

Max picks her head up off the window and glances at Billy. He’s relaxed again, satisfied that she’d answered him without attitude. He’s not joking about the trailer, though. His stern resting face speaks for him. Living next door to Neil, maybe he’s seen and heard his fair share of bullshit. Maybe Neil’s violence boiled over at one point and caught Billy up in it. There’s a story here, but Max won’t dig into it. Not when they’re supposed to be having fun. Best let sleeping dogs lie.

“It’s okay. I’ll figure something out when I can’t sneak away and sleep with you.”

Now Billy cracks into a grin, but Max sputters, “You know what I mean!” If only to cut off his innuendo.

“Oh yea, little red, I know exactly what you mean,” he teases with a chuckle tacked on to the end. He slaps his palms into the steering wheel in time to the hard riffs of the song piping through the speakers, reaches over to crank the volume right back up. Over it, he yells, “Don’t worry about any of that shit right now. We’ll figure it out.”

So she doesn’t. The 45-minute drive to Indio passes without much more conversation. They’re not the type to endlessly chatter. They don’t need to fill the silence—even if Billy hadn’t cranked the radio high enough to deafen them, they still wouldn’t small talk. The two of them are past that point anyway. Even when Billy parks in the boonies of a grocery store parking lot and they hoof it to an actual skate park, they walk in silence. Billy hadn’t put up a fight or objection when Max handed him her old board. He’ll be able to tell the difference when they skate.

It’s Saturday before noon. Before the heat of the day. The skatepark isn’t as busy as it could be, but it’s not empty, either. They wait their turn for a run—Max more patiently than Billy, used to a much bigger crowd. When they have an opportunity, Max barely waits for Billy to wave her on. You first. She flashes him a smile and takes off, trailing someone from a safe distance as they grind a rail in front of her. Eventually, spinning the world around her and catching some air, she sees Billy across the park when she hangs for a split second. Time slows down with her heart pumping, tank top damp in patches where she sweats through it. Like she calls to him, Billy glances up nice and slow from hopping off a ledge. He jerks his head with a smirk. And then it’s over, her plunging down back into the bowl and weaving through traffic.

Eager for a place to cool off once the park gets crowded, they pile back into the Camaro reeking of sweat and take off to the arcade. They stink, yes, but… it’s a good smell. Just the salt and life of them. Billy has a clean, red rag in the glovebox. She digs it out for them, tries to only use half of it to wipe the worst of the sweat off her face. They sit in the parking lot of the arcade while trying to make themselves look more presentable. Max is grateful she’d taken the time back home to braid her hair. Only some of the baby hairs around her hairline stick to her. Billy’s curls on the other hand flatten to his head and suffocate the back of his neck. She may sit there, leaning her chest into the vents blasting cold air while Billy groans as he wipes sweat off the back of his neck. Like always, he opens those devil eyes to catch her, winks at her before she whips her head away.

She’s the first one to explode out of the Camaro and dash for the arcade’s front doors. Even the 30 second she spends crossing the parking lot is hell. Bursting through the front doors of the arcade is heavenly. The industrial AC is cranked in here, and Max’s knees nearly buckle when she shivers. It’s only uncomfortable on her back and chest where she’s sweat soaked. Mopping herself up only does so much. She can’t do anything about her damp bra and tank top. Billy is in a similar state next to her as he feeds bills into a change machine for quarters. He shivers, broad shoulders and powerful back fighting it. Max almost forgets herself when she reaches out a hand, meaning to touch him. Meaning to draw her hand along the heat surely pouring off him. She gets her fingertips within grazing distance of that heat before she flinches away. Billy doesn’t notice, just shoves quarters in his pockets and doles them out when she asks.

Unlike at the skatepark, Billy does not join her in this adventure. Well, he joins her as much as following her around and watching her play is ‘joining’ her. His silence is a gift. She’s here to play games and score big, not talk about the game or explain it. She would. For him. But he never asks, only murmurs praise when she spells MDX on the high score screens. That’s the only time Billy pipes up. Of course when she rarely dies, his grin is teasing with an edge of meanness.

She flicks him off when she dies twice in a row on Dig Dug. It’s annoying, because she wants to show him the kill screen, because it’s hilarious. He may not want to stand around for two or more hours until she gets to round 256, and dying makes it take longer. She dies twice in a row because he’s distracting. Because she can see his nipples pebbling through his shirt. She knows he’s caught her staring when he fucking flexes his pecs and then cackles when she dies a third time.

“Do you enjoy being annoying?” She grumbles, joystick loud when she jerks it hard into the plastic of the control board. Her smacking the button in quick succession is satisfying in how clicky it is. “I’m trying to play.”

Billy just leans into her space, mindless of any eyes on them, and purrs in her ear, “Maybe get better at not staring at me, little red.”

They can do this sort of thing here. Because no one knows them in Indio. No one really knows them in Salton City, either, but there’s always a chance. Max hopes every day she sees Billy that their paths never cross Mom’s or, heaven forbid, Neil’s. That would be a lot of embarrassing explaining and lying she would have to do to cover her ass. And if Billy were present, his nasty grins and lewd eyes would make it all the more difficult. Because he would enjoy her suffering, although he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their… whatever this is. Flying through rounds once more, ignoring Billy still leaning close, almost touching her, she turns her thoughts to them. What she wants out of this.

‘When you’re ready for that kiss, let me know.’

She’d like to know when she’ll be ready for that, too. Going to the skatepark and then coming here reminds her of her happy life in San Diego. She misses that. Besides that, everything has been normal between them today. That normalcy and reminiscing over San Diego smooth her frazzled edges. Not that last night didn’t happen. Not that Neil didn’t do something unforgivable to her. That’s not what today is about. Billy knows she won’t forget, isn’t trying to make her forget. Without making a big deal about it, he’s just trying to take her mind off it. He understands. Max’s heart sinks, no longer in the game, when she thinks about that happening to Billy. It’s almost inconceivable, someone overpowering Billy and forcing him. She glances at him during the brief moment between rounds as the music plays. Blue meets blue.

“What are you thinking about?” He murmurs.

A handful of responses jump on her tongue. What she manages is a very soft, “You.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly. With an almost reptilian cock of his head, he pins her down with a hooded stare and molten smile. Briefly, a pang of annoyance flashes through Max when she ignores the round starting and dies to a Pooka walking into her. So, Max tears her eyes away from Billy and grits her teeth at the game. She has no hope of going much further, though, because although she does not look at Billy, his gaze is hot on her. She’d said about the lamest thing she could, and yet here he is, undressing her with his eyes. He always does that, but they’ve never been in public before. They’ve never really touched in public before either, and Billy aims to change that, too.

His hips come slipping around from the right side of the cabinet where he’d perched himself. Standing flush next to her, his left hand drifts behind to cup her hip. Max startles in his arm, but he’s right there to catch her. Even through her jeans, Billy’s hand is a brand on her. His thumb wiggles under the bottom of her tank top to find skin to rub while the rest of his hand squeezes the knob of bone under her clothes. It tickles, and she squirms against the game cabinet. Trying to escape the sensation but also just… enjoying that he doesn’t let her go. He would, if she told him to knock it off or smacked his hand away. She doesn’t want him to stop, shudders and doesn’t even care when her last life is wasted on a stupid move. Mostly because Billy’s wicked lips are at her ear again.

“My little red’s thinking about me, huh?” With her hair pulled back and braided, the warm puffs of his words ghost over the side of her throat and raise all the peach fuzz on her. Billy chuckles next in her ear and adds deep and rich, “Funny, I was thinking about you, too, Max.”

Her name in his mouth is always a steel trap snapping shut, the X hissing from his white teeth. She jolts hard, caught in that trap. Another chuckle, so deeply amused, plays with her ear. And then he peels himself away, dragging his hand over the curve of her ass as he goes. At the last moment, he grabs her through her jeans and squeezes, fingers curling into the plush underside of her cheek. Deep. Max squeals and arches up on her toes, nearly rocking the cabinet on its four feet. Billy wanders away, hands to himself and head thrown back in a wild cackle. Red to her ears and even dripping color down her neck, Max flicks him off as he disappears. Where he’s going, she’s not sure. She needs a moment to breathe, to center herself. To squirm on her feet, because she aches in a way she never has before.

“Fucking asshole,” she says while jamming two quarters into the machine. 

He returns in a few minutes with the wisps of cigarette smoke clinging to him. Ah, that’s where he’d gone. Outside to smoke. He is even warmer when he helps himself right back to Max’s side. His left hand welcomes itself to her hip again, taking a direct route there and skipping her ass. Her right cheek still sort of throbs from him grabbing her. Not painful, no. Well, that part of her isn’t painful. A little farther down, a little deeper, she aches. It’s never felt like this before, that delicate softness between her legs. Even when she thinks about Billy, splayed out on her back for the phantom image and weight of him, it never  _ aches _ . If Billy touches her more, escalates more, she isn’t sure what will happen. It should terrify her, but it doesn’t. She’s nearly vibrating apart at the seams, she’s so wound up. Thrilled. Excited.

When the game comes to a natural end on her last life, she doesn’t reach to feed it more quarters.

“What time is it?” She asks, keeping herself flush to the cabinet and unmoving under Billy’s hand. 

Watch on his right wrist, Billy flicks it up to check.

“A little after two. Why?”

Max shrugs, drums her fingers on the control panel.

“No windows in here, I wasn’t sure… Are you ready to go back?”

He squeezes her hip, murmurs amused, “Are you?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

Now would be the point he might call her a bitch and tell her to chill out. Normally. She’s wound up, he knows she is, wouldn’t be smirking so hard when she takes a tiny peek over her shoulder. The pink in her face is all for him. He knows exactly what he’s doing to her, the prick.

“Okay,” he says with that ridiculous, slick grin on his face. “Lead the way.”

As if he couldn’t get enough of her, he stalks behind her with his thumbs hooked into his pockets. Outside is much more miserable after the cool and dark of the arcade. Max misses it immediately, excuses the heat that drifts all over her back and ass on the sorching air out here. Rather than Billy’s hungry eyes surely eating up every inch of her. At least until they reach the Camaro and they must separate so they can leave, so Billy can pop the locks.

Immediately crawling in would be a bad idea. There is no shade on this parking lot, so the sun has beamed into the car for the hours they’ve been here. Max waves a hand in front of her face when the plume of heat from the car rises up, open doors freeing it. Billy slings himself into the driver’s seat sooner, turns the engine over, and flicks the AC on. It won’t start getting cold until they drive, so Max follows him down. By the time they hit the state route headed back south towards Salton City, the fresh sweat on them starts to cool off. They sigh nearly as one when it starts to feel good.

First thing is first when they pull up to the trailers: a shower. Max is dying to get her stiff clothes off. Her tank top is starting to itch from the sweat that’s soaked it, dried, and then dampened it again from another round. She’ll have to peel her jeans off, will be surprised if she hasn’t sweat through her panties, too. When she goes to step out of them, bathroom already steaming up, she swallows hard at the damp spot in the bottom of them. They’re damp from sweat too, yes, but this spot is shiny and slick. Shivering, Max thinks of what Billy would do with them and rubs her thumb in the mess. He’d lick his thumb clean, and she winces at the bitter taste of her. It’s ridiculous, a stupid thing to do. A Billy thing to do, and she almost hears his pleased hum when she draws the pad of her thumb out of her mouth.

Washing isn’t any easier. The process is normally a robotic affair, maybe some singing. Not now. Because every scratch of her fingers through her hair, every graze of her own fingertips is torture. Max’s soft skin, thankfully free of blemishes at the moment, has never been so alive. So buzzing. Even when the night is long and she manages two beers on the couch with Billy, she never hums in her own skin. Billy did this to her. Just by being all over her and groping her a little. Will he do it again when they settle on the couch? More? He won’t do  _ more _ until she lets him know. That’s what he said this morning, the purr she remembered in her ear while thinking about him at the arcade. She’s right back to thinking about him with her hands lathered up, frozen and shy where they hover over the wisp of red hair between her legs. If washing her hair and the rest of her was almost too much, how will she manage this?

A fist pounding on the door just as she slides her hands between her thighs almost spills her to the wet floor of the tub.

“Hey, quit playing with yourself and hurry up. You’re using all the hot water.”

Teeth gnashing and upper lip twisted in a snarl like he can see, Max barks, “I am not!”

She means that in regard to playing with herself.

Billy just scoffs, “Uh huh.” The door knob rattles next. “Either hurry up or I’m popping the lock and getting in. And I’m pushing you to the cold side of the shower.”

It’s Max’s turn to scoff when she snaps back, “It’s not locked, moron.”

So he tests that theory, cracks the door open, and then his voice is clear when he asks with a laugh, “What, did you forget? Needed a shower that bad, huh?”

He can’t see it, but Max shrugs. Heat that has nothing to do with the spray climbs into her face when her hands shift. She goes right on washing, trying to keep the pressure of her fingers light as they glide back and forth over downy hair. Billy would be a kid at Christmas if he knew where she’s washing right now. How she leans against the plastic wall of the shower because her knees want to buckle.

Shuddering as she shifts her palms to her inner thighs, Max admits, “I just didn’t lock it this time.”

He’ll find whatever meaning he wants in that. She truly hadn’t thought about it. Maybe if she peels back the top layer of her excuse she’ll find trust and desire for him as the true cause. Keeping her head up and eyes open, Max stares at the dark sliver where the dim of the hallway seeps through the crack of the door. Billy is still there. Oddly quiet, maybe oddly subdued, actually. Shivering, Max lifts her hands to the spray to rinse them, angles her pelvis towards the water next to wash soap away. She’s not done with herself, though. Leaning her back against the wall, facing the door, she slides her hands back between her legs. When she draws the fingers of her right hand back and forth, up and down the seam of her, she pretends Billy is the one doing it. So she almost lets out a fluttering gasp when she applies pressure, pushes past hair and skin to find slick, wet heat. Even when she thinks about Billy when she’s alone, she’s never this wet. Can’t get there by herself. Billy does.

“Max.”

The poor girl startles hard, almost slides to the floor, when her fingers pet over her clit just as Billy says her name. She aches all the more between her legs, wishes he’s just open the fucking door all the way and get in here. It’s the horniness talking, though. Max knows damn well she’d shy away and snap at him if he did that. Not because she doesn’t want him. The blood rushing south and firming up her clit under her fingers is evidence to the contrary. Oh, she wants him. More than she understands, more than her courage will allow her to admit. Him saying her name deep and warm like that threatens to undo her. Bottom lip in her teeth, Max tucks three fingers to her clit and rubs gently as she gathers her voice.

“Y-yea? Stop bothering me and let me shower.”

“You’re usually out by now,” he says lowly, not rising to her sass. It’s the same deep rumble from the arcade.

Max trembles and bites her lower lip through a stuttering breath. Any louder and Billy will hear her. Will know without seeing exactly what she’s doing. She should stop. He’s right there. Billy being close but not close enough just makes her want to do it more. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.

“What, do you time me or something, pervert?”

The huff of Billy’s laugh, just a few bubbles of it, barely reaches Max over the static of the spray. His purred words reach her just fine.

“You never take this long, little red, I’m not stupid. If you need something to take the edge off, I’m right here.”

Billy is her entire edge, though. Max fingers meet no resistance, sopping wet from clit to hole, as she ventures down. The last person to touch her here had been Neil. She hates that, snarls at no one at the thought. So, Max wedges her thumb against her clit and wiggles the tip of her middle finger inside her. Her left hand, forgotten, twitches on her thigh. Her fingers dent her skin as she holds on to herself. She needs the extra support when she flicks her thumb and darts her middle finger in and out of herself. Just the tip of it, just enough to play with the wetness welling out of her. If not for the spray and how she keeps her movements gentle, the bathroom would be a filthy mess with her noises. Moaning and otherwise.

“I-I’m fine, just go, I—”

“Max.”

The growl of his voice is almost threatening. It makes Max clench and tremble around her finger, lean more of her weight against the wall. She knows he wants to be the one doing this. He doesn’t even know exactly what she’s doing, only that his hands should be where hers are. Maybe she’d be cheeky about it and try to keep going if he were here. Just keep interrupting him to be a prat about it. Would he snarl at her and snatch her wrists up in one of his hands? His are big enough for that. Max’s shudder isn’t one of fear but one of mindless need. She’s never thought about someone holding her down. But now she wants it, wants Billy to have to contain her thrashing and pin her down until she’s breathless. Until all she can do is wiggle and glare up at him. And that glare would melt into a moan at the first graze of his rough fingers over her clit, her labia, everywhere. He can have it all. 

When Max opens her eyes, not knowing when they’d fluttered shut, it’s to the bathroom door pushed wide open. Billy is still in the hallway. He hasn’t stepped forward, hasn’t crossed that line. The foggy liner doesn’t entirely betray her. Maybe he makes out her hand between her legs. Whatever he sees, it makes him draw in a deep, loud breath. He exhales just as loud and long. She thinks his hands flex at his sides. Like it takes every ounce of his restraint to not just cross the room, rip the liner back, and take what he wants. Max shivers again and slows the flicks of her thumb, carefully slides her finger out. It almost hurts when she’s empty. A finger, even hers, is a lot. Billy’s would be even more, splitting her open on two, filling her to the point of pain with three. She’s not seen it clearly yet, but the thought of him pressing the head of his cock to her sore opening makes her tremble harder than before. Her knees bend, threatening to buckle.

When Billy says her name again, it’s with the A drawn out. Almost sing-song. Promising her something wicked. 

“I’m getting out!” She spits with her voice softer than she intends. She clears her throat, tries again with more of her usual brass, “If you’re in such a damn hurry, leave and close the door already!”

He must be tired of her telling him no. To stop, to slow down, to go away. She almost regrets snapping at him. He draws another loud breath in and out. Max opens her mouth, something so foolish on her tongue, but Billy grumbles and yanks the door shut. Just short of slamming it. Max’s heart thunders harder than it ever has. When she leans her weight against the wall once more, it has nothing to do with the unsatisfied throb inside her. Billy’s frustration is spicy and tingly on her lips. She’s not the only one hot and bothered. She winds him up, too. He’ll probably play with himself when it’s his turn to take a shower. Only she won’t bother him. That’s his nature: pursuit. Max is resilient. When she’s ready for Billy’s hunger, ready to give herself over to the ravenous thing prowling the shadows, she’ll know. She’s almost there.

Max has to steal Billy’s towel again when she cracks the door open, peeks into the hallway. His bedroom is empty. The TV is on in the living room, but he is not in his usual spot on the sectional. Craning farther out of the bathroom, she spies the master bedroom door is open. Voices drift from inside. She has yet to meet Billy’s grandpa. Apparently he keeps to himself, doesn’t speak much. Sleeps a lot. Max worries maybe he’s at that age where people begin to forget themselves and slowly become less human, more husk as the years rack up. If Billy is close to his grandpa, he isn’t vocal about it. He shows it in his duty towards the old man and how he takes care of him. But Billy never talks about him or his family in general. Max wonders, slipping into the chill of Billy’s bedroom, how hard it will hit Billy when the old man dies.

It’s a sobering thought. Enough to help push her lingering lust away. It shames her now that she’s back out in the real world, plucked from her fantasies of Billy wrestling with her and holding her down. Billy being a few feet away had only made it hotter, makes her shame that much hotter, too.

Cheeks bright pink, Max keeps her back to the open bedroom door while she squeezes water from her hair. If Billy has another towel, he ought to let her use that one instead of his. He always showers second when they both need it. Always ends up with his damp towel because of her. Why he doesn’t go first and make her deal with the damp towel, she isn’t sure. Billy and the word ‘chivalry’ don’t mesh even a little bit, but maybe it’s part of Billy’s honor code or something. Shrugging, Max loops Billy’s towel around her neck to keep it off the floor and off his bed as she digs in his top drawer for something to wear. Movement at the open door draws her eye and rips a flinch out of her. She can’t twist away from Billy fast enough.

“Hey!”

Billy just leans against the doorjamb, not exactly looking at her, and asks, “So you just gonna keep stealing my clothes or? I’m not made out of shorts and t-shirts, you know.”

No mention of the bathroom. No flirting. No warmth. Like it hadn’t happened. Maybe she  **is** frustrating him with all the rejection. And not in a sexual sort of way. Is he mad? About the bathroom? About her taking his clothes? All at once, she is uncertain of her place here. When she doesn’t answer him, insecurity chasing her tail, Billy finally glances over to her.

“The shirts you took home. Do you wear them to bed?”

She meets his eyes and gives a tiny nod.

“Sometimes.”

Why that softens his resting bitch face and almost makes him smile, she doesn’t know. He’d said once his shirt looked good on her, but she’s almost positive that was an indirect comment about her nipples poking through it. She’s telling the truth, though, that she does still sleep in them. Even though they don’t smell much like him anymore. It still thrills her to lie on her bed and wrap herself up in something of his. Just to turn the engine over, to get the blood flowing. Maybe he likes that she wears his clothes. Maybe he knows she thinks about him when she pulls the vintage shirts over her head, can’t help but run her hands down her body like he’s doing it instead. She shivers all over again, and Billy rocks himself out of the doorway.

“Toss me my towel.”

He sticks his hand back in the room, makes a grabbing motion. So she bundles it up and launches it at him. Thick fingers snatch it out of the air, and then he’s gone. Bathroom door shut, the shower turns back on. Max’s uncertainty from before, when Billy had seemed cold, is long gone. His little smile at the end there takes the lion’s share of reassuring her. It… makes sense if he’s a bit miffed about her constant rejection. Her constant slowing them down. They’d been so charged today, so hyped up at the arcade with his hands all over her. Maybe this is just how two people hook up? Max wouldn’t know. She’s never said as much to Billy. That she’s a virgin. He has to know, though. Isn’t it obvious? It is to her, anyway.

It’s obvious to Max not just because of course she knows—it’s her body—but because she’s so hesitant. If she were having sex, wouldn’t she be more open to it? More enthusiastic? She mulls it over with her teeth in her lip. How much of that thought is her opinion versus the gross thoughts of men? Maybe it’s all the twisted ideas of men. That she’s obviously a virgin because she’s a little scared, would be a slut otherwise. She hates that thought, knows that’s something Neil probably thinks. Put more clothes on. Act like a lady. Cover up. She growls and shoves the dresser drawer shut. If she wants to have sex, then she will. It doesn’t make her less of a person, doesn’t change her. It will probably be emotional and a little scary her first time, but she’ll still be Max when it’s done. She could fuck a hundred guys, and she’d still be Max. People who think like Neil and try to shame her or her sexuality or her body can fall in a ditch and die. She knows what she wants.

The confidence is what guides her to the sectional in Billy’s t-shirt and a pair of his boxers instead of the last pair of shorts in his drawer. They’re black and blend into the bottom of the Iron Maiden t-shirt. Just like the AC/DC shirt, the red of the font is peeling off. This t-shirt is longer than the other two. Maybe it’s a size bigger, which would be weird for Billy. All his shirts are a little too small on him. So the extra length and room of this one makes it look like she’s only wearing the shirt. More so when she curls up on the couch and tucks her legs to her body. It’s chilly out here, too. Won’t be when Billy joins her. She won’t have to wait much longer. The shower is already off, bathroom silent.

When Billy walks out in sweats and nothing else, he pauses by the front door with his eyes going a fraction wider. Normally when they sit on the couch together, Max claims the curved part of the sectional. It leaves a cushion between them. Close enough for Billy to lean and touch her, but not cozy. Max is curled up on that buffer cushion, forgoing her usual spot. When Billy sits, they’ll be cozy. TV remote in her hands, she acknowledges him with a tiny flick of a smile. It’s nervous. Because this amounts to her giving him the green light. That she wants to be close to him. Like they’d been at the arcade. She wants that so much that she doesn’t break their stare as Billy wanders closer and then stands in front of her. Their positions are… precarious, so Max keeps her chin tilted up to avoid looking at what’s almost in her face. Billy’s hand drifting up to take her chin in his fingers, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth, makes her shiver.

“Cold?”

She forces another shiver away.

“A little.”

He hums.

“You want a beer while I’m up?”

She considers it but shakes her head. Not if she wants to think clearly about this. To keep her head clear while they fool around. Because that’s what’s about to happen. She feels it.

“No thanks.”

One more caress to the corner of her lips, and then he’s gone. Billy takes the bubble of his body heat with him and leaves Max cold. The long curtain of her damp hair doesn’t help, chills the back of her neck. All the peach fuzz on Max’s arms stands up as she gathers the cold length of her hair and pulls it over her left shoulder. She should get up and grab Billy’s comb. Tackling the tangles now will help prevent them as her hair gradually dries. Billy is at the edge of the sectional, one beer in hand, when she unfolds herself, springs up on feet that stumble. Billy’s free hand flinches towards her as if to catch her but stops short.

“Gonna go grab your comb, I’ll be back.”

He watches her as she weaves down the hallway. It’s a given at this point. They’re on the tipping edge of this. Her and the prowling thing, desire, meet at the edge of light and darkness and feel each other through the divide. It’s not so monstrous, up close. Once she’d stopped letting the thoughts of men control her. That sort of thinking isn’t undone instantly. She understands herself and her wants all the better regardless. As Max stands in the humid aftermath of Billy’s shower, the mirror clearing unevenly like the curve of a coastline, she meets her eyes. It’s easier to meet the eyes of the prowling thing, too. Dipping her fingers into the dark to touch it doesn’t make her flinch away. And it reaches for her too, into the light. She thinks it just looks like Billy. Her desire takes the shape of him, and she is not afraid.

When she goes to sit down, Billy stops her with a hand held out.

“Give it here.”

She does so without a fight, only a thin eyebrow cocked up at him. He accepts the comb, shuffles around to face her empty spot, and then points to it.

“Sit.”

Max crosses her arms over her chest, shifts her weight onto one hip, and drawls, “I’m not a dog. Also what are you trying to do? I thought you just wanted to comb your hair first.”

“Already did.” He points twice more to the spot. “I’ll comb your hair.”

Max blinks hard a few times, sort of flinches back in surprise.

“… Why?”

Now Billy scowls at her, goes to turn back to face the TV.

“Just say no if you don’t want to, jeez Max, I’m not forcing you—”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes before, “Chill out, pervert, I just don’t get why you want to comb my hair. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, I don’t need help.”

He scowls even harder, not meeting Max’s eyes.

“I just want to, is all. Do I need a reason?”

He’s right on the edge of calling her a bitch and blowing it off. Billy’s… embarrassment winds her. She hadn’t really thought he was capable of being embarrassed. Fighting a flush in his cheeks and holding the comb out to her. It’s vaguely sweet? If he weren’t being a snippy asshole about it? He’s also just not used to people telling him no. Clearly. He’s a big baby about it; the longer he… pouts, the more Max wants to tease him. Oh how the tables have turned. Billy can only dish it out. He can’t take it. So, Max turns on her heel and sits in the spot next to Billy. Her back to him.

“I’m tender headed. If you pull on my hair, we’re done.”

She doesn’t have to wait long for the couch to shift as Billy turns to face her. Thanks to his expensive conditioner, her hair is soft as silk and smooth already. There probably aren’t many tangles, if any. The only reason she trusts him not to fuck up is because of the care and attention he pays his curls. He has difficult hair. Those curls don’t always agree with what he wants, don’t always play nice. So Billy knows his way around hair, starts at the ends of her locks like he should. Max relaxes at that point, knowing she won’t have to prompt him to do it right. Even when she would attend sleepovers with her friends back home, she never let them play with her hair. They were too rough or wanted to do something stupid to it. This fiery mane of hers is a good chunk of her pride, and she doesn’t want it ruined. So she trusts Billy more than she thinks she does when she leans into his hands, turns her head for him when he urges her to.

The teeth of the comb glide again and again through red strands. The sensation follows the silky threads back to Max’s scalp where the energy pools under her skin. It’s such a simple action; something she does at least twice a day. With Billy doing it, Max winds up like she had at the arcade. She wants to shiver, but she holds it in. Hands fisted in her lap to control herself, she thinks she has a pretty decent handle on it. When the plastic teeth graze her scalp, it shreds her control to ribbons. Max sucks a breath through her teeth and arches her back. Billy hesitates behind her. She feels it in the thread stretched between them. 

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “It… felt good.”

More encouragement isn’t necessary. The comb is back along with Billy’s fingers scooping hair behind her ear so he can get at it. That tickles, and Max wiggles where she sits on her ass with her legs crossed in front of her. His deep chuckle is the first noise he’s made since she sat down. He’s finally to her hairline, and Max tips her head back to make the reach easier. Billy’s right hand rests on her shoulder. Not quite controlling her, only holding her steady. His fingers give a teasing flex, squeezing that narrow shelf. The AC has no impact on him. The thick fingers curling over her shoulder sear through the t-shirt. Branding her like every time Billy touches her. 

The comb is gone in a blink, and then it’s just Billy’s hands on her. He sweeps her hair over her left shoulder, exposing her nape and one side of her throat. Max already has her teeth in her bottom lip before the first kiss, holds her breath for the second and third. Billy’s hands cup her waist through the shirt. To steady her, to feel her, she isn’t sure. She’s just grateful for his hands and the strength in them. With a shiver, Max tilts her head the other way. Offering him more. If he wants it. Billy shuffles behind her, body heat making contact where his shin brushes the top of her ass. By some miracle, Max doesn’t send her shoulder smacking right into Billy’s jaw when he presses a suckling kiss just under her ear.

She jumps in his hands, but he’s ready for that. Max’s hands flinch up from her lap, unsure of what she’s meant to do with them. It gives Billy the space for him to wrap his arms around her and drag her closer. Her weight is nothing to him. He shoves his right leg between her and the back of the couch to make room for her between his legs. The left drops to the floor to give him purchase. She doesn’t struggle but is tense when he settles them down. His lips are back on her throat with a hum as he kisses below the first one. Suckling again, but not hard enough to make a mark. It gives her a taste of what could be—Billy painting her in teeth marks and purple everywhere. Anywhere she’ll let him. He pauses in his path down with his breaths ghosting over the crook of her neck. Every inch of her is awake and alive, lungs aching from her holding her breath. When he mouths at that sensitive spot, gifts her with an edge of his teeth, she cannot stop her tiny whimper.

Twitching in his arms, torn between struggling a little and just sagging against Billy’s chest, Max allows herself the small mercy of leaning her head on his shoulder. It just offers more of her neck to him, this vulnerable spot wide open for him. She jumps again when his hands come to life. They don’t reach for anything. Thick fingers spread a little as Billy pets her up and down, from just under her breasts down to her navel. When he kisses her nape next, she arches into his hands as they sweep up to the top of his strokes. He’s not fondled her little breasts directly, but her nipples are painfully hard from the notion of it. A few boys in the past who fumbled with her just pissed her off, too quick to grab her. She wants Billy’s hands there, though. 

Max takes it upon herself, with her face blushing so hot, to grab Billy by the wrists and direct him where she wants. Just as she had not fought him, he does not resist her calling the shots. He especially doesn’t complain when she guides his palms to cup her through his shirt. Billy sucking in a breath is loud in her ear. He wants this, too, hadn’t thought Max would give it to him. Thin lips sink back to her neck at the same time as Billy’s hands fondle her, fingers and palms working together to squeeze her. She finally squirms against the wall of his chest and stomach, caves in on herself because it feels too good. His teeth in her have her arching right back up, and she has to dig her nails into his thighs when he pinches both nipples at the same time.

Shuddering, she manages a high, “Billy,” when he rolls pink buds between his fingers. Her shirt is still on, and he’s seen them before. They’ll grow darker the more he plays with them. “Billy, I…”

He sighs in her neck, kisses the spot where he’d nibbled on her. He stops pinching her and just goes back to cradling her breasts in his hands. There’s plenty of room left over. He has big hands.

“Too much?”

Ah, his voice so deep and rumbling in her ear sends a shock straight through her. Her pale thighs jump as the ache inside her returns. She wants him so terribly, is afraid to ask for more. Is afraid of what more will entail, that it will hurt. Still she… wants to try. Billy will stop if she asks him to. And if he doesn’t, then they both know what she’ll do to him. Shivering so hard she could fall apart, Max gently takes his wrists and draws them away from her chest. He sighs hard again in her ear, is about to grumble something. That’s not what she means, though. She doesn’t mean to pump the brakes and send him crashing through the windscreen. Before he shuts down on her, Max twists to the left and then all the way around until they’re face to face.

He’s already frowning, disappointed, when she takes his firm jaw between her hands. She doesn’t hesitate, closes her eyes tightly despite how brave she’s trying to be. His nose smashes into her cheek when she kisses him full on the lips. Too hard, pinching their lips against their teeth. His moustache scratches her. But she’s doing it, kissing him first, telling him she wants more. Billy gets a hand on the back of her neck, the other on her waist, and urges her away. Before her heart sinks, thinking he’s rejecting her now, he fixes everything about that first, awkward kiss. His fingers in her neck tilt her head the way he wants, and he matches her in the opposite direction. This kiss is infinitely better when their lips slot together. Plush and soft and just feeling each other. She gives him a tiny hum, this feels good, before he licks at the seam of her lips.

She doesn’t have to let him do this. She’s never liked it before when a boy would shove his tongue in her mouth. Disgusting and uncoordinated like he was trying to eat her. Max makes a compromise between her history and what she wants right now. Her hands flatten over Billy’s bare chest—oh that’s right, he’s shirtless, she forgot—and is ready to shove him or slap him. Max leans into him some and parts her lips. Dares to lick him back when he does it again, smiling when he hums against her. Billy shifts his grip on the back of her neck, really grabbing her, and keeps her right where he wants her while slipping his tongue through the little gap she makes for him.

Someone licking into her mouth makes her squirm and gives life to butterflies in her stomach. She can’t decide right away if she likes it, just lets Billy have his way while she experiences something new. The taste of beer is faint on his tongue, the open can long forgotten. He backs off every so often only to kiss her again and again, sometimes just the plush pull of their lips. She’s already getting better at that, and he smirks when she kisses him first again. She feels the difference, her leading. Him letting her lead with his lips fighting a wider grin.

Max separates them to huff, glaring with her eyes closed, and returns Billy the favor of slipping her tongue into his mouth. This is just as strange as Billy doing it to her, only more so because Billy licks her back. She hadn’t known that was an option when he first filled her mouth with his tongue. She didn’t know sucking on his tongue was an option until he does it to her. Now she forces her strength against his chest and pushes them apart. She knows he lets her up. His hand is warm and firm around the back of her neck. He could keep right on trading messy kisses with her if he wanted. Judging by his hooded stare, he wants that.

He grins and then sucks his teeth, murmurs, “Well that was certainly something. Thought you were gonna tell me it was too much again.”

It takes a few tries for Max to find her voice.

“You didn’t slobber all over me, so…”

He cranes his head forward, nudging their lips together. She keeps her eyes open this time even though it makes her nervous. The wet sound of them separating has her turning shy again, though, and she avoids meeting Billy’s careful stare. She’s aware, now, that she’s kneeling between his legs, sitting on her calves. They’re in each other’s space, easily within kissing range if they want to continue. If they want to dive back into each other. Max wouldn’t mind that, but… if there’s more on offer, and she knows Billy wants that, then she wants it, too.

Shuffling on her knees, Max throws shy glances up to blues waiting for her and says, “Touch me more.”

“Touch you more, huh?” Billy squeezes the back of her neck and her waist at the same time, pulling a shiver out of her. “Shoulda known you’d be bossy in bed. Ask me nicely and I’ll think about it.”

She scoffs in his face despite the heat in hers.

“Why? I know you want me. You literally rubbed your dick on me this morning.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to right now.”

If he means to encourage her with that, it has the opposite impact, sends her heart sort of racing for the center of the earth. He didn’t need to kiss her if he didn’t want her. She knows when she’s not wanted. Max is quick to recoil, to start shoving herself out of his arms. Billy’s smarmy grin knocks off his face, immediately reading the reversal of the energy between them. So he wrestles with her hopping on her knees and scratching her nails down his chest. He hisses, jumps under her, but still doesn’t let her go. Thick arms wrapped around her waist, he yanks her forward and unbalances her, sends their chests crashing together. It knocks the air out of Max, stops her hands from digging into Billy’s curls to pull on them. To make him give her up.

“Fucking Christ,” he hisses to himself. To Max he grumbles, “I didn’t mean it like that, Max, I was playing around. It’s bedroom talk, you know. I thought you’d play along.”

“No, I don’t know,” she bites out with her chin hooked over his shoulder. Shame turns her beet red to her ears as she grips his biceps for dear life. “I’m a virgin, you dolt. I’ve never done this before. I’ve barely kissed anybody before you.”

Billy’s hands flat on her back twitch. He goes quiet. Very still.

“You for real?” He asks softly. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you? You’re really a virgin?”

Not feeling an ounce better about this, she mumbles, “I thought it was obvious.”

He huffs, his stomach knocking into hers. 

“Well, it wasn’t. Saying, ‘I’m a virgin,’ makes it obvious, Max. I honestly thought you had a little boyfriend back in San Diego you ran around with and you were just playing coy or you promised to not fuck anybody while you lived here.” He shrugs. “You’re on the pill and were sending me all the right signs, so…”

“Having periods suck, that’s why I’m on the pill. And sue me for having eyes.”

“I mean, I’m right there with you,” he laughs a little. His hands relax on her back and pet her nice and slow up to her shoulders and then to the tops of her ass. “You being a virgin doesn’t change anything. Still wanna fuck the daylights out of you.”

She jumps at that, and he chuckles from the bottom of his throat.

“Gotta treat my little red just right, show your pussy a real nice first time.”

“You’re so gross,” she grumbles through her teeth, about to pass out from how hot her cheeks are.

“Yea,” he sighs, not ashamed at all. “You like it, though. You wouldn’t keep coming around here and let me feel you up if you didn’t. You kicked Neil in the balls, you ain’t gonna take shit from anybody. Me included.”

He’s right about that, and Max hugs him tighter about his neck. Billy returns that embrace, but relaxes it to tug on the back of her shirt.

“Hey, sit up. Look at me real quick.”

She lingers for a moment more. Gathering her courage that wants to buckle. It’s out in the open for real, now. That he wants to fuck her, and she wants that, too. It’s real. It’s no longer a game. She is in the darkness with her desire, letting it sweep her up. She has to trust it, can’t back down now when she’s so close. So, Max unwinds her arms from Billy’s neck and sits back in his hands that cradle her. He means look him in the eyes, though, and doesn’t speak until she gives him that, too.

“I wanna hear you say it. Partially cuz I wanna see how dark you can blush but also so that we’re on the same page. I wanna be very clear on what you want, Max.”

Her throat tries to close up, but she swallows a few times to fight it, to force her voice to work. Hands tightening at his shoulders and wiggling on her knees, Max asks, “What am I supposed to say?”

“I mean, you can be as specific as you want. Dirtier the better, honestly.” His grin is brief, but comforting. “‘I want you to fuck me’ gets the point across, for example.”

Yep, she’s red as a cherry just hearing him say it. When she’s horny, all she thinks about is Billy. Trying to imagine him on top of her, dick in her, though? That scares her more than it excites her. The pain and blood promised to her. So if that’s what he means by ‘fuck’ well…

“I, I don’t…” She chews her lip while darting glances at him. He wants her to look at him while she says this. “I don’t know if we can do that. Go all the way. I think I want that? But I’m… I’m scared, okay?”

Billy shrugs.

“Then we won’t.”

Max frowns, confused that he’s not ridiculing her, and asks slowly, “Then what am I supposed to say?”

He breaks into another easy grin, a little teasing.

“You really are a virgin. You think the only kind of fucking is someone sticking a dick in you?”

“Well, I guess not if you’re saying that,” she snaps, attitude rising because he’s having a laugh at her, too amused for his own damn good. “I already said I wouldn’t know, you don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“Can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Before she gets another word out, he moves them. Scoops her right up to plaster their fronts together, gets his legs under him, and lifts her clear off the couch. Her weight is nothing in his arms, but she snaps her limbs around him anyway. He laughs while jostling her higher, grabbing Max by her ass to do so. His hands linger there to fondle her during the brief walk to Billy’s bedroom. He leaves the comb and beer on the coffee table, leaves the TV on. It all disappears when he gets them into his room and then kicks the door shut. Distance between them and his grandpa. Doors between them. While they have sex.

Bed below them, Billy lowers her until the mattress is just under her ass. 

“Let go, I’m putting you down.”

Heart still racing from him picking her up like that, she does as she’s told without an ounce of resistance. He’s not done with her, though, gets her by the hips and positions her how he wants her. Head on a pillow, feet pointed at the bottom of the bed. He doesn’t join her at her side like she thinks he will. Instead, Billy flicks the curtains shut to help block some of the intense sunlight coming in. His room is not dark by any means. Just cozy with some of the light blocked. Max’s legs lift and bend at the knees of their own accord when Billy climbs up, leaving his sweatpants on. His palms are warm on the cold balls of her knees when he covers them. Perched above her like this, looking down on her, his hunger stares her full in the face. A violent shiver tears through her. Stomach butterflies betraying her, Max can’t help the nervous glance she flicks down to the front of his sweats. 

“Billy, I mean it, I’m really—”

“We’re not doing that,” he assures her, eyebrows lifting together to stare at her pointedly. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want. If you don’t want anything in you, then we won’t.” His hands finally come to life on her knees, slip down to pet the tops of her thighs, and then slide right back up. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘there’s more than one way to skin a cat?’ More than one way to play with your pussy, too.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, tipping her head back to escape his awful wink and filthy grin. “Why do you have to say that?”

“What? Pussy?”

She wants to slap her hands over her ears.

“Yes!”

Max aims her irritation and embarrassment at Billy as he crawls up her. Not on top of her but caging her in with his forearms around her head, keeping him propped up. When she doesn’t fight him, he comes down, angling his head in a way she picks up on. She keeps up her thin glare but eventually tilts her head in kind to accept his kiss. She rejects the gentle lap of his tongue to her lips, though, and turns away to break the kiss.

“You got hang ups over a word? Really?”

Little ears bright red, she glances sideways at him and grumbles, “It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing because it makes you uncomfortable or because you like it and it annoys you that you like it?” His smug grin returns. “Because it’s me saying it.”

Is she that obvious? How does he know that? It only irritates her more, and he laughs when her blush deepens.

“I mean, I can pick a different word. I’m sure cunt is really pleasant to those blushing, virginal ears of yours. Or no, wait, vulva really hits it out of the park. Does vagina work for you?”

Eyes tightly shut, Max growls, “I really regret finding you so attractive, because you are the fucking worst.”

He is warm chuckles, so amused, when he kisses the heat steaming her cheek. He lingers there to purr, “Wait to pass judgement until after I make you come. I know exactly what I wanna do to you, if you’ll let me. Still wanna hear you ask for it.”

“Then hurry up and tell me so I can say it!”

Head twisted back around to stare up at him, less iron hardens Max’s glare. Her embarrassment and shyness creeping in turn those blues soft. Billy lets up on his cheesy grin, slips down to tempt her with some lippy, generous kisses. That works the rest of her glare away, leaving only vulnerability and desire behind. Because no matter how much she blushes and squirms, Billy is right. She isn’t going to take shit from anyone, even him. If him talking to her like this annoyed her that much, she’d leave. They both know that. So she just ignores the lingering heat in her cheeks and blinks up at him.

“So?”

He stays close, propped up on his forearms with his head cocked when he asks, “Do you know what a blowjob is? And before you get an attitude, I’m assuming you know nothing, Miss Virgin.”

She does know what that is, and if he thinks she’s doing that to him, he’s wrong. She doesn’t say that, though, just gives a few nods.

“Well… What if I told you blowing isn’t just for guys? That we can go down on you, too.”

Max’s shoulders hunch up when she asks, “What do you mean?”

“I mean”—he sweeps down again to kiss her nice and slow, just once—“I wanna use my mouth on you, little red. I wanna eat you out, go down on you, there’s lots of names for it.”

“Why do I feel like I’m in school right now?”

Billy snorts at her flimsy attempt to distract from how she squirms under him. She gets it. His mouth on her privates. Knowing how good it feels to use her fingers on her clit, she imagines that wicked tongue of his can do some damage. His tongue and more. It’ll probably be over really fast. He makes her hornier than she’s ever been in her damn life and they’ve barely done anything!

“I don’t mind taking you to school,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I’ll teach you anything you wanna know if you’ll be my good girl and listen real nice like.”

Him talking like that does something to her. Flicks an on switch, pushes a big button in her that says ‘go!’ So even though her stomach flips and her heart races, she gives him a little nod.

“Okay… let’s do that.”

“Ah ah, Max, I wanna hear you say it.”

To herself she grumbles, “God, you suck,” but she steels herself. Forcing her shoulders down, Max looks him right in the eye and says, “I want you to eat me out.”

It sounds so awkward and stupid to her ears. Still makes her shiver with excitement to say it. It’s not a request; it’s not a question. She’s telling him what to do. Max’s excitement balloons when Billy draws his teeth over his bottom lip and then grins. Just as riled up as her. Maybe more since he knows what’s about to happen while Max has a vague idea. She’s saying yes, though. She trusts him.

“Telling, not asking. I like that.”

He pecks a brief kiss to her lips and then wiggles down her body until his head is level with her breasts. She’s still wearing his shirt. This isn’t where she expects him to stop, though, so she gets her hands under her and sits up. Billy’s are busy gathering the hem of the shirt, about to push it up. Her moving pulls his focus away from that task.

“You don’t have to do anything. Just lie down and let me take care of you.”

Maybe that’s supposed to be romantic or more ‘bedroom talk,’ but she steamrolls right over his smooth grin with, “Isn’t your destination a little farther south?”

Billy tsks at her, goes right on shoving his shirt up her chest until she’s exposed. Fire ignites under her skin once more; Max goes flopping back to the bed, covering her face so she doesn’t have to watch him look at her naked.

“Fuck, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” He kisses the flat space between her small breasts, and she jumps under him. With his bulk between her legs and above her, though, she has nowhere to go. “I could be lazy and just lick and suck until you come, but lucky for you, I like to take my time. Just relax, Max, I meant what I said. Let me take care of you.”

He says the last part with a light laugh. Comforting her. She peeks from between her fingers to find his lips hovering above the spot he’d just kissed. He bows his head to do it again all while staring up at her. Planting kisses over pale, peachy skin, he never looks away. Sensing a pattern, because Billy is fucking ridiculous, Max slaps her hands right back over her eyes. He’s going to watch her like that while they do this. Because of course he is.

“Come on,” he drawls after a biting kiss that has her sucking in a breath. He wanders closer and closer to the slight swell of a breast with each kiss. “Put your hands down, let me look at you. Keep your eyes closed if you want, but I wanna see your face while I fuck you.”

Growling behind her tight lips, Max throws her hands down. She fists the sheet trapped under them and grimaces with her eyes pinched shut.

“Well, you don’t have to look like you’re trying to squeeze out a turd.”

Indignant, Max’s blue eyes fly open as she readies an insult. Telling him off for being disgusting. Something. He’s ready for her, flicks his tongue out to lap at a pink nipple the moment their eyes meet. She’s exposed and it’s cold in here, so the little nub is already firm. Billy’s attention to it makes it that much harder, and Max’s face falls into bliss when he teases her again and again. She’d felt his moustache when they kissed, and it tickles her when he presses his mouth to her breast, too. The other isn’t lonely for long, Billy supporting his weight on his left elbow while his right hand reaches up to fondle her like earlier. The memories of him dragging her into his lap to pinch her nipples comes rushing back.

“Oh god,” she breathes, already shaking hard.

“Like that, huh?”

She nods, eyes fluttering despite them being closed. She’s a twitching, heaving mess under Billy’s weight as she fights to not arch into his mouth. To not give him the satisfaction, because she hadn’t known how good this would feel. Pinching and rolling her nipples when she tries to masturbate feels good, of course, but it’s nothing like this. Nothing like the gentle suction around her or Billy’s wicked tongue flicking and teasing. Each caress sends a jolt straight down to the center of her, adding to the unbearable ache inside her. She has no say in what he does, when he stops, how hard or soft he does it. So that unknown keeps her teetering on the edge, keeps her wiggling for more. She experiences it all over again when Billy kisses a path to the soft underside of her other breast and bites her.

“Ah!”

He sucks at the same spot, hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to pool blood just under the surface of her skin until it’s buzzing. It will take days for it to fade. She almost opens her eyes to look but knows Billy will be there waiting to devour her. She can’t look at him and keep it together, is already aching so terribly where his weight pins her hips to the bed. And no matter how she bucks, he doesn’t move an inch. He does it again, leaving another mark on the same breast. Higher, the scent of his hair drifting into her nose he’s so close. He hums this time as she shakes and makes tiny, restrained gasps for him. Louder, more cries want to fight their way out of her. She resists if only for her pride.

“Fuck that’s hot,” he murmurs against her nipple, nibbling it so gently. “Be loud, Max, I wanna hear you.”

She throws her head back and grinds out, “It’s embarrassing!”

“Yea well it’s a huge turn on. I’m about to start humping my bed.”

Crassness aside, the thought that she excites him just feeds back into her arousal. He could have anyone, could get anyone. So the fact that she turns him on and she’s not touching him…

“Billy,” she whines. “Touch me more!”

He groans between her breasts, kisses the flat space again.

“Fuck yea, like that. I can’t wait to see how wet you are, little red. Wanna see the mess I’m making of you before I get my mouth on you.”

She almost wishes him talking didn’t turn her on so much. It’s annoying. Does he ever shut up?! He will. He’ll have to shut up with his mouth pressed between her legs. Pleasuring her. She has no earthly idea what this is going to feel like, refuses to let the unknown cow her. She trusts the prowling thing that has her, now. Billy won’t hurt her, wants her to enjoy this. So Max swallows her pride. She gives over to her desire, shudders and whimpers as Billy kisses his way down to just below her navel. Her flat belly trembles under each wet graze of lips.

“Please,” she whispers. “Please touch me.”

Billy shakes the bed with how hard he jolts on top of her, biting through his groan. She risks it all to crack open an eye, to see what’s become of him. His mouth and nose are pressed to her milky skin just under her navel. His tan flushes darker with blood all the way to his hairline. Even his ears are red. Like he has to struggle for control over himself, his eyes are pinched shut as he breathes hard through his nose. Another groan, and devil eyes start to flutter. Max’s slam shut once more so he doesn’t catch her looking at him. For once.

“Don’t gotta ask twice,” he slurs before biting her where she’s soft under her navel. Hard enough to scratch her. Hard enough to make her whimper. “Lemme take these off you…”

He means the boxers she’d swiped from him. Her knees tremble where she still has her legs bent, feet flat in the bed. The position is to her advantage now as she lifts her ass off the bed so he can undress her. His shirt is still shoved up her chest, exposing her. But she is not entirely naked thanks to that. Vulnerability cannot creep in and sour her. Not that it doesn’t try when Billy wiggles down and off her, pets her thighs apart. She knows what she looks like, has sat on the floor in front of her full-length mirror with her legs thrown wide apart. Just looking at herself. Finally connecting touch to sight and understanding her body better..

Max knows she’s the same pink as her lips and nipples, darker when she’s aroused. Her labia and hood stick out a little, isn’t all tucked away and small. She’s played the game of ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ with some of her girlfriends. They all looked different with a plethora of colors and shapes and sizes. It’s just genitals. So she knows he sees all that and the wisp of red hair on her mound, farther down, too. It hasn’t gone wild, yet, but she was warned it’ll get thicker and fuller; that she should shave it if she wants a guy to fuck her. She likes her body hair just fine, doesn’t understand why other girls think it’s gross. And if a guy doesn’t like her hairiness, then he doesn’t get access to her. Simple.

Billy doesn’t have any problems with that at all, groans even louder as he presses his mouth to her mound and licks the soft hair he finds. That first brush of tongue again and again, lapping her, rips a yelp out of her. Not scared, just surprised. Billy’s grin precedes his chuckle when he stops rubbing his face in her mound. When he sits up a little, cool air sweeping in to take his place, Max’s thighs tremble and try to shut. Not out of shyness, because she’s not looking at him while he watches her. It’s just cold, and she wants him to come back down. The bed dips as Billy shuffles around, and then his hands pet up and down her inner thighs. A gentle push to each one is suggestion enough—she doesn’t need her damn hand held—and she opens them wider for him. Let him look at what he’s done to her.

“Damn, little red,” he breathes, hands coming to a stop where her thighs meet her torso. Not moving, just looking at her. Watching her twitch and squirm. “You’re soaked.”

To prove his point, Billy slips his left hand closer, draws his thumb up and down her labia. She’s already flush with blood, all her wiggling earlier helping to spread her slick around. He deliberately avoids touching her clit, is content to just play with the mess he’s made of her. Max fists his sheets and slaps her head into his pillow once, twice. He’s driving her up a fucking wall with all this teasing, all this slowness. She’s never ached so badly, makes fooling around in the shower seem like a cake walk. So Max unlocks her teeth and pants a little through her mouth, forcing her pride down so she can coax him into hurrying up.

“Hurry up and touch me then, you jerk,” she growls. “You know I want you, just do it!”

“Oh, my little red wants me, huh?” His thumb presses harder, actually slips between her folds now. Still not touching her clit, the fucker. “Tell me one more time. I like hearing you say it.”

She writhes off the bed, a frustrated bubble of noise erupting out of her. Almost a sob, but not at all sad or mournful. Maybe if she makes it good, lays it on thick like he does, he’ll shut up and actually do something.

Forcing her eyes open and sort of staring at his jaw, Max breathes, “I want you.” A wild shiver gallops through her, forces her eyes to flutter shut. “Billy, I-I wanna come.”

It must be the right thing to say. It sounds stupid to her ears, would make her roll her eyes if she weren’t tingling from head to toe. At this point, she’ll say anything to get Billy’s mouth on her. She’s dying to know what that feels like. That and he’ll finally shut up. He groans deep again like when he’d rubbed his face into her mound, drops down to bite and lick at red hair again. Another path of kisses leads to her inner thigh. Like her breast, he sucks and gnaws at creamy skin to mark her. His teeth in such a delicate, sensitive area have her bucking into his face.

He chuckles while biting her again, his hands pinning her hips down. This is what she’d wanted while fantasizing about him in the shower. Holding her down and making her take whatever he gives her. She is not afraid to be devoured. When Billy is done with his mark, surely smug about it, he kisses right back over to where she’s desperate for him. Max’s cry at the first, long lap of his tongue is a pretty, twinkling thing. All for him.

He groans with her when he does it again, and again, and again. If not for his hands holding her down, she would be a squirming mess, would probably wiggle right off the bed. But he denies her that, pins her down until his hands almost bruise her. She’ll be sore. That’s a problem for future-Max, though. Right now, she tears at his sheets in her fists and arches her chest off the bed as the point of his tongue dives deeper, twists and twirls with a waggle of his head as he makes for her clit. When he gets there, he presses forward and uses his whole mouth to kiss her. Lips and tongue dragging, suction right where she hadn’t known she needed it. Didn’t know it could steal her breath and rip a loud moan out of her. Loud enough to shake the walls, if they could. And then he’s gone, teasing lower as he stabs his tongue against her wet hole. He could probably push inside her, if he wants.

This isn’t going to last long. It takes a lot to make her come when she’s alone. Rubbing herself until it hurts or fingering herself past the point of boredom. Either she’s not good at it, doesn’t like it enough alone, or is doing something wrong. She has no clue, just knows enough to recognize the swelling pool of pleasure inside her. It sends out a threatening pulse when Billy retreats all the way to her clit again, giving her little kitten licks before dragging his mouth hard over her like last time. He stays there, then, with his wicked lips sealed around her little clit and sucks so gently.

He doesn’t stop like last time, and Max’s eyes fly open. Forgetting her shame for a moment, she stares down her body. Blue meets blue, his desire unbound and wild staring her full in the face as he pleasures her. Max cannot look away as Billy’s left hand still wedged between her thigh and body twitches forward. So wet and desperate, she barely feels his finger dive into her. Just wails and slams her eyes shut when he brushes her sweet spot once. The caress unlocks her, has her wailing and trying to move on him, trying to fuck herself or maybe fuck his face. Just like that, Max’s pleasure swells and crashes on her in a flash. Max cries out and snaps around him with every wave of her orgasm.

She loses herself to those harsh waves. Billy doesn’t even move his finger, doesn’t slam into her like she has to do to herself to get off. He hums around her clit, though, and she gives him more shrill cries. Timed to the slowing waves of her intense orgasm, she whimpers near the end and rips a hand free from his sheets. Her trembling fingers find his hair, tug on curls to get him to stop. His mouth on her is too much, is like ice directly on a burn. Too intense. He sucks softly one more time, pulls back only to kiss her shy clit, and then finally sits up. He slides out of her tightness with one last whimper from her. It’s over.

Except it’s not. Her eyes are closed, so she only feels the bed shift as he hovers over her. The soft press of his lips against her is a shock, and she opens her mouth without thinking about it. Billy is disgusting, a known fact, and smirks into their kiss when Max whines at the taste of herself. She’s too weak, shaking too hard to fight him off. Or slap him. Thoughts are a struggle in the first place, so she just bites his tongue to get him to stop. Not hard enough to actually hurt him. He ends their kiss already chuckling, pecks her little frown for her troubles. Max makes a face, still tasting bitterness, but Billy cupping her cheek smooths over that insult. His gentle touch soothes her tremble, brings her back to her body. It’ll be a while, though. She’s floating.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says from far away, all around her. “Jesus Christ, Max. Open your eyes, I want you to look at me.” His next breath comes out raspy and stuttering. “I’m gonna come.”

Far beyond her pride and shame, Max’s watery blues peel open. She meets his eyes, blue on blue, for barely a second. His hand twisting over himself, stroking fast is more interesting. He may still cup her cheek, holding her head steady, but she’ll look wherever she wants. It’s the first time she’s seen his dick. And not all warped and vague through the liner in the shower. If he’s about to come, she doesn’t know what that looks like. If there are signs. He’s wet and dark at the head, flush with blood. Big. How he’d fit in her, she has no idea. Just his finger in her had made her see stars. Stuffed full of him? Maybe she wants that, squirms a little as he strokes faster. Even now the aftershocks of her orgasm throb in her clit.

She’s never come that hard before, never that fast. Billy just does that to her. Max leans her head into his hand, gives him a little whimper. That must do it for him, because his breathing picks up and he starts groaning longer, louder. And then spatters her pale belly with come in one, two, three bursts. The rest dribbles out of him and slides down his fingers. They grip his dick so tightly that they bleach bone yellow at the knuckles. Panting like a great beast, he squeezes out every drop onto her. His hand shakes when he finally lets himself go, softening before her very eyes.

She wants him to come down and kiss her. Well, maybe not with his filthy mouth. But something. The shaking persists, wild tremors refusing to cease. Sometimes she needs to curl up and just hug a pillow when she comes. If it was a good one, not one she pursued out of spite. But Billy shakes himself hard and then staggers to his feet. Leaving her. It takes all of Max’s strength to crane her head around and watch him leave. Her eyes sting despite her pride slowly returning. She doesn’t mean to let one or two tears out, just doesn’t want to be alone. Billy is back with a damp rag, though, and shushes her immediately when he spies the wet tracks on her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry on me,” he says with a smile, a kiss to a wet trail on her cheek. He nuzzles her while wiping between her legs. She flinches and whimpers, shakes all the harder. “I’m right here, I’m not doing anywhere.”

More kisses, more shushing. He cleans himself off her next, leaving the skin tacky. She’ll need an actual shower. Later. That done, Billy dumps the cloth over the side of the bed to pick up later and finally, blessedly, scoops her up. Flat on his back, Billy manhandles Max to lie down on top of him, her head nestled in the crook of his right arm. It leaves his left free to pet through her hair, to scratch her scalp. Anything to help calm her and bring her back to her body. She doesn’t feel in control of herself, trembles only a little less with Billy warm under her. It’s confusing and scary after feeling so good. She doesn’t understand, actually starts to struggle in his arms but doesn’t know why.

His hand on her head stops that along with his rumbling voice.

“Come on, little red, you’re okay. I’m just holding you, I’m not gonna hurt you.” His other arm loops around her waist and pets her back. It’s enough contact to wind her down until she’s basically a puddle of girl on top of him. “There we go.” A kiss to the top of her head. “That’s my good girl. Just relax, you’re fine.”

She finds her voice, or maybe it finds her, but it shakes terribly when she whimpers, “I-I can’t stop shaking…”

“You had a really intense orgasm, Max. Ride it out, you’ll be okay. I’m not leaving you again.”

She nods against his shoulder, turns that nod into a nuzzle to feel his warmth on her skin.

“You left and… I didn’t want you to.”

“Had to clean you up before we got to this point. You wouldn’t appreciate me leaving you messy like that, trust me.” His chuckle shakes her. “Even if I liked looking at you covered in my come.”

“You’re disgusting,” she grunts, finally finding herself again.

“There she is,” Billy coos to her. “You liked it, don’t lie.”

Max lifts her head only to smack her hard skull on his clavicle.

“Shut up. I liked you better when you were blowing me.”

Billy’s hum is deep and warm in her ear, and then he purrs, “Oh, I like it when you talk dirty to me. Do that more next time.”

Max readies a retort about him being a pervert, but instead lifts her head again to look at him. She meets his smug grin, ignores the way he licks his teeth at the sight of her. 

“Next time?”

“Fuck yea, next time.” His hand on her back reaches down to squeeze her ass. Not unlike what he’d done at the arcade. Fuck, that feels like years ago instead of hours ago. “I told you there’s more than one way to play with your pussy, and I’m gonna show you all the ways. You were tighter than hell, could barely get a finger in you.” He squeezes her ass again to make her jump. “Gonna take a lot to get my dick in you, if you want that.”

Face neutral, Max slips a weak hand up Billy’s chest to twist one of his nipples. Hard. His jump and indignant yelp of pain soothes some of the embarrassed heat in her face. Billy and his filthy, fucking mouth. 

Next time, though…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me in the bottom AN. Sorry it's dusty down here. Below I have some summaries of future Billy/Max fics that could be real! I'll try to get to all of them EVENTUALLY, but if there's a sort of consensus on what you want next, I can fast track that idea! If the muse agrees. She is a cruel mistress. So anyway, please let me know in the comments =D You can vote for one, order them from most to least, whatever!
> 
> #1: After the tunnel battle in season 2, Max enlists Steve's help to drive the Camaro and Billy back. When Steve leaves, Max falls victim to funky stuff from the Upside Down and wants to fuck Billy (sex pollen, it's a sex pollen fic). She blows and then rides him while he's passed out.
> 
> #2: Post-Starcourt, Billy lives and has to deal with memories of the MF threatening to go after Max after it interrupted her trying to break Billy free of his control. He of course threatened to take control of Billy and rape/torture/kill her. And Billy is worried El saw that in his head and told Max (and he's maybe afraid El saw fantasies he's actually had on his own of fucking Max lol). So Billy is distant from Max when he wakes up from the hospital. But she won't leave him alone, so he eventually tells Max the truth (again thinking El already knows and told/will tell Max). They may or may not fuck for real, I haven't decided. Can't figure out how I would swing them saying yes to fucking (unless I made Max be curious or have a crush on him or something), but we'll see.
> 
> #3: Aged-up Billy who is married to Susan instead of Neil. Marries her purely for access to Max. He's slowly poisoning Susan to death so he'll have custody of Max and can basically disappear with her (Max is groomed to fuck and is like 15/16 in this, reluctantly wrapped around Billy's finger).
> 
> #4: Older mature Billy/Max. Billy (40s) is an narrator for audiobooks and records in a bedroom converted to a sound booth in his apartment. In the main bedroom, he has Max (20s) tied to their bed, blindfolded, with a remote toy in her. And he plays with her while recording, not letting her come. When he's done recording, he joins her and finally fucks her. Will probably include spanking of some sort (they're not related in this fic).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's Monday. You know what that means! This is the shortest chapter of "Pickle Juice." But that's mostly because they get RIGHT to the fooling around. Billy, you dumb idiot lol.
> 
> Thank you for everyone who responded to the prompts from last chapter's bottom AN. I'm having a touch of the writer's block right now, so that sucks. I did start another one-shot this morning, though, because the idea possessed me last night. And I miss writing Billy nasty and sleazy lol. The last two things I tried to write had him, like, nicer. And I got bored, oops. So I'm trying to power through this nasty one-shot. Maybe I'll do some writing exercises, idk. Writer's block sucks lol.
> 
> "Left Handed" came out on Friday if you haven't read it yet! Check it out [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24799798)

Sunday morning is wasted away in Billy’s bed, naked and sort of dozing. Sunday is Billy's only official day off. It’s a day of choring. Of doing the shopping for him and his grandpa, of fixing anything that needs fixing, of tending to his grandpa’s needs. So when Billy finally sits up in bed, stops sucking more bruises into Max’s neck and breasts, she leaves of her own volition. It’s a good opportunity to get Mom alone and… feed her a lie. Because Sunday is also Neil’s chore day. They are alone for a few, precious hours.

Of course Max wants to tell Mom the truth. That Neil had raped her Friday night. That she doesn’t feel safe there. That she’ll be sleeping next door. But the moment they’re alone and Mom starts making pancakes for them and starts talking about stupid shit… Max’s courage dies. They’re stuck here. With Neil. Mom won’t divorce him so soon. Even though Max hopes she would if Mom knew what Neil did to her, would have kept going without two swift kicks to his dick. Max still hasn’t seen Neil since. When Mom doesn’t mention anything about him, Max knows her secret is safe. She just feeds Mom a lie about meeting a girl in her grade and that she’ll be spending a lot of time at the girl’s house. Mom accepts it without a fight. It almost hurts how easy it is to lie to Mom and how she swallows it like honey.

Monday and Tuesday pass Max like they always do. Bumming around Salton City between glimpses of Billy. Only now when he comes out to the Camaro to go to work, Max approaches him. The morning is deserted, same as always. Without neighbours, they are bold. Billy takes her by the hips, spins them around, and plasters her against the Camaro to kiss her nasty and fast. She wiggles on her toes to arch into him, reaching up to yank on his hair as he flicks his tongue in and out her mouth. Like he’s fucking her all over again. She is the one to bite him and sort of wrestle him away from her. They stare hard at each other, panting and almost snarling, and then Billy chuckles at her.

“See you later. Don’t get into any trouble.”

He doesn’t need to tell her that. He’s all the trouble she needs. Especially when he pinches her ass right before swinging into the Camaro, the last word always his.

This Wednesday morning had been much the same, Billy feeling her up in the humid air and kissing her like it was the last. All their touching has been chaste or on the hot side of chaste. They haven’t fucked again since Saturday, although not that they don’t want to. The timing doesn’t work out. Billy is always exhausted when he comes home from work. He takes his shower, scrapes a meal together, and then holds Max to him on the couch. Sometimes Billy falls asleep with his nose in her hair, his hand on her breast or ass going still as he drifts off. Max has to prod him awake to get him to sleep in bed. Where she joins him. She can’t get enough of him snuffling in her neck and holding her all night. 

She wants them to fool around tonight, though. Wandering Salton City like a rabid animal, it’s all she thinks about. Now that she knows sex and has experienced it, she wants more. Not yet ready to go all the way, but she wants to see what else they can do together. More than one way to skin a cat, Billy had said. The idea of touching him and seeing what he feels like in her hand or on her skin keeps teasing her. Mostly because she wakes up with Billy’s erection pressed to whatever part of her is against him. This morning, it’d been her hip. Facing each other, Billy hummed in his sleep with his face in her hair and his hips rutting into her. She entertained it for a little while but bit his jaw to wake him up.

That’s something she’s learned since Saturday. Billy is a biter. He likes to be bitten, too. Max wants to use that new knowledge to the fullest, wants to tease him and wind him up like he does her. That pervert likes to leave marks all over her, even in places her clothes won’t cover. Returning the favor is the least she can do. She’s about to vibrate apart when she springs up from Billy’s bed and walks outside to the growl of the Camaro. Billy slowly dragging himself out of the car stops her short. The condition of his face restarts her heart.

Max can’t fly down the porch stairs fast enough, can’t reach him fast enough to take his jaw in her hands.

“What happened?!”

His nose is deep purple at the bridge. Broken and reset. Blood has long since stopped flowing from his nose, but Billy still has tissues shoved in his nostrils. His eyes and jaw aren’t much better, bruised from fists, and Billy flinches in her hands.

“Take it easy with the merchandise,” he grunts. 

She takes her hands away before he brushes them away, hisses again, “What the hell happened, Billy? Who did this?”

Shoving his door closed and locking the Camaro, Billy sways almost drunkenly on his feet as he makes his way to the porch, up the stairs. Slowly.

“Some guy in Indio didn’t feel like having his midlife crisis Mustang towed out of a fire lane. He was a raging asshole, so I didn’t offer to drop his car. So.” Billy shrugs, winces as he drops into his spot on the couch. He leans his head back against the cushion and melts. “So he jumped me as I was hooking his car up. Got some swings in before I got him to the ground. At least I’m off tomorrow with full pay.” He chuckles, but winces before he’s barely begun. “Boss is gonna press charges, can’t have his favorite employee roughed up.”

“Billy,” she says softly. She hasn’t even sat down next to him, too afraid he’ll push her away. She doesn’t know what to do. “Do you want an ice pack or something? Is there… something I can do?”

A bruised, blue eye cracks open. It’s bloodshot, but at least the guy hadn’t burst a blood vessel in those pretty blues while tenderizing them. Billy’s grin isn’t as slick and smooth as it usually is, but she reads him all the same.

“Awww, little red, you’re so sweet.” He lifts a hand and grabs at her thigh, sliding up as far as her shorts allow. He’d shove his fingers into her shorts if she were closer. “Will you still fuck me if my nose is crooked?”

“I mean your nose wasn’t exactly straight to begin with. You’ve definitely taken some fists to the face.”

Billy sighs, lets his hand fall as dead weight from her thigh. Her skin still tingles where he’d pinched and fondled her. Getting her excited and reminding her of what she wanted them to do tonight. Guess that isn’t happening now.

“A beer would be nice,” he sighs after a while, eyes flashing up to her. His grin is back. “And you can plop that tight ass of yours down and give me some lovin’. I think I deserve it after the fucking day I’ve had.”

She shuffles that much closer, hoping maybe he’ll touch her again, and says, “I wanted to have sex tonight.”

Billy gives her a pitiful look. Comically sad despite his face beaten to hell and back like he’s a cartoon character.

“Red, you’re killing me. How am I supposed to dine on your bountiful flesh when it hurts to talk?”

Max shrugs, glances away from his pitiful stare.

“I mean, we could do other stuff. Not that I didn’t like you going down on me, and you’re doing that again at some point, by the way.”

He sits up enough to get her by the hips, to jerk her to stand between his spread legs. He is a grumbling thing, grabby and needy as he shoves a hand up her tank top to fondle a breast, to roll her little nipple until it’s hard. She shudders and holds herself up with her hands gripping his shoulders. Billy doesn’t let up, gets his head under her shirt, no bra, and bites hard at her other breast. Max yelps with her whole body and shoves her chest into his face. His hands can’t stay chaste, slide down to cup her ass and then try to play with her through the legholes of her shorts. She squirms all the more when he groans as his fingers brush fiery hair. No panties. She did it just for him.

“Fuck, Max,” he breathes under her tiny shirt, sucks another mark in the underside of her breast. “Tell me what you want. I’ll fuck you right here, right now, just tell me.”

She bows down enough to nuzzle his hair sticking out the neckline of her tank top. Those curls are still a little warm from outside. Smell like heat and diesel fumes from his tow truck. He hasn’t taken a shower yet. The sweat and musk of him is strong through his uniform, makes her throb where his fingers almost touch wetness. She’s been squirming and hard and aching for him all day, had wanted nothing more than to lie in his bed and play with herself. Only to tell him about it later. To see if he’d get possessive and just carry her back to bed to reclaim her. 

Without his eyes on her, Max finds her boldness and murmurs into his hair, “I wanna touch you this time.” She licks her lips, tries to make her voice deeper when she adds, “I wanna jerk you off.”

“Fuck yes,” comes out muffled against her breast. Billy is extra harsh, extra mean when he leaves one last mark on her and then pops out of her shirt. His hair is a mess. Somehow the swelling at his nose looks even more painful. “We can take it easy tonight and rub one out together. You game?”

She nods, comes down to kiss him despite his injuries. Their lips meet for a few seconds, long enough for them to touch, but Billy pulls back with a wince.

“So fucked up that kissing you hurts,” he grumbles. “Lucky that guy didn’t bust my lip.”

“Lucky he didn’t punch your stupid head off your shoulders.”

Billy scoffs at her and then nudges her away. He needs both hands sunk into the couch to push himself to his feet. Max flinches to help, but he’s up with a groan under his own power. She keeps out of his way as he staggers to his bedroom. A shower is in order, Billy’s routine despite her dangling the promise of sex in front of him, so she lingers in the hallway to stay out of his way. When Billy appears in front of her, naked and unashamed, she tips her head up to meet his bruised eyes.

“You really do look like shit right now,” she teases.

“Yea, but you’re still fucking me, so.” He bows down to kiss her, so soft and with a little wet noise at the end. “What does that say about you, hmm?”

She doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t need an answer. The bathroom door latches behind him, but like always, Billy doesn’t lock it. She could step in, get a jumpstart on their fooling around. Billy deserves a moment alone to deal with his day. Max guesses by the bruises and swelling that maybe the Mustang in Indio had been Billy’s last tow of the day. Beaten up like that, he would have been sent home after it happened. Of course it would be the last job of the day. She doesn’t find too much sympathy for him, though. Because he’s an asshole and probably did nothing to calm the situation between him and the owner. Billy probably ran his mouth and escalated. Like he always does. So she shakes her head at the bathroom door and seeks Billy’s bed.

Clothes left on the floor, Max climbs up on Billy’s bed and draws the curtains shut. Billy ties them back from the window when he leaves. She doesn’t know why, figures he would keep them tightly shut all the time to beat the blazing sun outside. Nothing truly beats the sun here, though. No shade, no cover could hope to win. Even the industrial AC in bigger buildings is entirely dependent on electricity to keep it all working. So, room cozy again and her skin already tightening from the chill and excitement, Max spreads out on Billy’s bed. Rubs herself into his sheets to get comfortable.

Touching herself and getting warmed up is tempting. If only to have Billy walk in here and catch her. Or maybe he’d stand there and tell her to keep going. They’re the aggressive type; the bossy type. So Billy ordering her around usually earns him her raised hackles and sass. Oh but Billy telling her what to do while she’s trying to get off? That could be fun. Would he play along? He seems to like it that she makes demands rather than asks him for things. Touch me more. Go down on me. You’re doing that again, by the way. Orders are prickly for them, she understands. It’s just… different when it comes to sex. They want to have fun together; They want to make each other feel good. It’s fun.

So instead, Max lounges on Billy’s bed during his shower. He never takes too long, but she finds enough time to doze naked and soft. She stirs awake to callused fingers petting up and down the center of her body. From the hollows of her throat, between her breasts, all the way down to her pubic hair. He doesn’t touch her clit, just spreads his fingers around her mound and then pets her right back up to her throat. How long Billy has been standing over her, watching her, touching her, she doesn’t know. Max stretches when she’s fully awake and arches up for him. She goes so far as to lift her legs and fold them to her belly. Opening herself for him. Welcoming his bruised gaze to eat her up.

“Really wish my face didn’t feel like a tenderized steak right now,” he grumbles. “Cuz I really wanna fuck you with my tongue.”

“Next time.” She pushes his hand off her and then sits up. “Sit down, you took forever in the shower. I almost started without you.”

He scoffs, mutters, “Bitch,” under his breath.

“Asshole,” she fires right back.

They share a grin, though, and Billy reaches to kiss her even as he hikes a knee up on the bed. The kiss is short lived, only long enough for their tongues to brush before Billy stops them.

“Really unfair it hurts to even kiss you.”

“Poor baby,” she mocks with a pout.

“Okay, now you’re actually being a bitch.”

Max just rolls her eyes and makes room for him. She knows what she wants to do. She’ll save her idea from earlier—them telling each other what to do—for another day. Billy settles down in the bed without direction or hesitation, melts into his mattress like he had on the couch. She wants to touch him, wants him to touch her back. Jerking each other off at the same time, like he said earlier. He’s so tired, though, would be exhausted without his face getting beaten in. Max takes pity on Billy and lets him stay down. She helps herself to his lap and throws a leg over him, straddling him. He perks right up, startling under her, and grabs her hips on instinct. Tries to lift her up on instinct, too, to position her.

So she reaches down and squeezes his wrists.

“No, I wanna be on top.”

Billy blinks up at her.

“Really?”

“You’re tired,” she says with a shrug. “But I also wanna have sex, so I’ll be on top this time.”

His hands don’t relax at her hips. But he isn’t trying to lift her anymore.

After a moment’s hesitation, long enough to bloom some insecurity in Max, Billy relaxes into the bed once more.

“Okay, have at it.”

Relieved, Max bites back a smile and lets his wrists go. The moment they’re free, Billy’s hands slide up and seek the fresh marks on her breasts. He pets them like visiting old friends, draws his thumbs over the bruises when he cups her. On her knees straddling him, Max cranes forward to lean into his palms. Each squeeze of his hands and casual swipes of his thumbs over her pink nipples warms her up. Gets her squirming and breathing a little harder. Max even manages to gather her courage and keep her eyes cracked open. Her lashes give her some cover from Billy’s searing gaze. It’s unfair that he’s still hot with his face bruised to hell like that. He’s still just as intense with the deep purple bleeding from the bridge of his busted nose. 

Rolling her nipples in his fingers, Billy murmurs, “Thought you said something about jerking me off. You gonna get to that part or…?”

“You’re… mmm, distracting.”

“Don’t blame me, you just like having your tits played with.”

He pinches her harder than before, digging the edges of his thumb nails into delicate buds. It zaps searing, white-hot pleasure straight to her core, has Max’s back snapping as she arches into his touch. Her next breath shreds through her teeth, comes out as a rough moan when Billy turns gentle at her breasts and just fondles them again.

Two can play at that game. Maybe boys aren’t as sensitive as girls, but she’s seen his nipples get hard when he walks into a cold place. So they’re sensitive to a point. Max smacks his hands away and sweeps down before he gets a response in. She’s not as bold as him, can’t do the thing where he looks up at her while licking or biting her. So Max just closes her eyes when she bites a kiss to his chest, firm unlike her breasts but still a breast all the same. Billy’s next inhale hitches, and she’s aware of the heat of his hands hovering at her waist. Cupping the air around her, waiting to see what she’ll do. She doesn’t know how to coordinate teeth and suction to make a mark on him. She’ll figure it out eventually, is more interested in swirling her tongue around his tan nipple and then sucking on it when it’s hard.

“Jesus, Max,” he hisses.

His hips pop under her, but he settles down, actually pushes himself against her mouth. It amuses her so deeply that he reacts so similarly. Maybe just restrained for his pride’s sake or some machismo thing. It’s whatever, because Max takes another page out of Billy’s book when she nibbles him like he does to her. That earns her a deep groan that gets caught and shredded in his throat. A noise of pleasure that makes her hum with him. She gets it, why he likes hearing her while they touch. She gets it, now, while she draws her hands up and down his muscles and just feels him under her. His skin is sensitive, too, likes being pet and scratched just like her. It had been foolish to think Billy’s skin is wired any differently just because he’s a man. She smirks as she kisses over to his other nipple, doesn’t stop teasing it even when he threads a hand into her hair.

Deep voice playing games with her ears like always, Billy sighs and hisses all sorts of things to her. That what she’s doing feels good, yea like that, bite me harder. She tries, then, to make a mark above his heart, at the swell of his muscle under his breast. He directs her, must understand what she’s trying to do. She has to bite and suck a lot harder than she’d initially thought, has to break capillaries under the skin to pool blood. He holds her there, fingers scratching and twitching through her hair, as she finally blooms purple through the honeyglow of his chest. Shivering hard, already squirming, Max sits up and admires her handiwork from on high. She totally gets this, too. Sitting up and looking down on his blissful grin. She arouses him, too.

“Never thought I’d fuck a girl who’d do that,” he laughs.

“What, play with your tits?” She asks with a grin, enjoying his mild look of annoyance to the fullest.

“You’re not being very cute right now.”

She snorts, says, “Deal with it,” and then scoots back to sit on his thighs instead. He’s not hard, but he will be. “Is there any trick I should know before I jerk you off?”

“Squeeze harder than you think.” He gets comfortable with his arms looped behind his head, hands cupping his hair. So he can watch her. “The head’s the most sensitive part, but it’s boring if you only rub me there. Just”—he shrugs—“have fun with it.” 

No pressure. She likes that, nods with another smile bitten back instead of allowing insecurity to bubble up in her. It’s not rocket science. Despite being blissed out on Saturday when they’d fucked, she watched him enough to get the gist of it. Besides… she has plans. She just needs to get him hard first. So with her ass resting on his thighs, pinning him, Max slips her right hand around his soft cock. Warm and velvety, she squeezes to feel the firmness of it. She snorts at how it’s soft and hard at the same time. True to Billy’s words, when she strokes up for the first time and slides the ring of her fist over the head, his hips jerk. A glance up shows her Billy with his eyes hooded and his teeth raking over his bottom lip. His face twitches when she swipes her thumb over his pink head. Dull pink just like his lips, his nipples brown thanks to the sun and his tan. Funny how he’s the same color in these intimate places just like her.

Billy’s hips twitching clue Max into the sort of rhythm that he wants. Or the rhythm that he’s used to when he does this himself. She balances the back and forth strokes of her hand with pressure around him. The longer she does this, the more blood firms him up in her hand. He’s plenty big while soft, only swells in her hand a little bit more when she finally gets him hard. No longer pushing rope. He’s finally into it, too, head rolled back and moaning through a little gap in his lips. Max’s heart hammers in her throat as she watches him without his devil eyes on her. He’s beautiful with his throat bobbing as he swallows between moans, face twitching through his pleasure and the residual pain from the beating. Everything makes so much more sense now that she’s in control. She likes watching him while she gives him pleasure, and watching him becomes part of her pleasure. She gets it.

When he’s shaking under her and oozing precome at the tip, she lets him go. She’s ready for his thin glare and grumble, how he throws a hand down to paw at her wrist. 

“Why’d you stop? Don’t be a bitch right now Max, come on…”

But she pops the back of his hand like catching him in a cookie jar and just shuffles on her knees. Higher up his body. Until her thighs are spread wide around his hips and her wet heat is poised above him. She has to reach down and push his cock flat to his belly for what she wants to do to it. She won’t be climbing up and letting him fuck her yet. They’re not there yet, because she’s still scared of that and too tight. When Billy gets frisky in the morning, he likes to kiss her and slip a finger in her. Not moving. Just feeling her twitch and clench around him. How tight she is. He murmurs to her that his dick in her will blow her mind, will make her come so hard she’ll probably pass out. She tells herself he’s all talk, but she knows she aches for that. Eventually. Right now, Max just rocks her weight forward and carefully sits with his cock nestled under her mound.

Mouth open to say something, Billy only manages another moan when Max slides forwards and back on his cock. Rubbing herself on him, spreading the wetness welling out of her on him. All from just watching him and listening to him. Billy does that to her, drives her crazy with so little and gets her ready to go. He reaches for her as she grinds harder on him, but she catches his hands. She blushes as she laces their fingers together and uses the strength of his arms as leverage. Like this, she leans more weight into his hands and takes some of the pressure off her knees as she rubs her clit up and down the underside of him. Their hands squeeze together when she lingers at his head, swirling the blushing, hard bits of them together.

“Holy fuck,” punches out of Billy as he stares down at them. “Holy shit that’s hot.”

It’s encouraging, has Max rocking in his lap harder. She probably can’t make him come this way, but she’s already close. Is this what he feels like when he’s on top of a girl? Just moving on her, in her, and making her shake from how good it feels? Not that she isn’t enjoying this, but a good portion of the heat in her comes from watching Billy’s expressions, how his eyes try to slide shut as he groans. All his little twitches and how he rocks with her. No matter how good it feels for him, he refuses to look away from the action. He’s almost loud enough to cover up the slick sound of them, Max plenty wet to take the friction and make it heavenly. Max squeezes his hands harder, digging her nails into the backs of his hands.

“Billy,” she pants, snapping her hips harder and almost grunting every time she does it. A beast herself, learned from him. “Billy, I-I’m gonna come.”

“Yea?”

She nods, sends her hair bouncing.

“So good,” she whispers. Her hips stutter as it builds in her. She almost wishes she had something inside her to make it better. She pretends instead, imagines the weight and pressure of his finger. If she tenses her muscles in just the right way, like when she comes, it becomes even more real. Head thrown back, she whimpers, “God, I want you to fuck me!”

He groans with her, promising, “I will, Max, I will. I wanna fuck you too, little red, you’d be so tight and good for me.” He sucks a breath through his teeth, and their eyes meet as Max slams her weight down on him. “Fuck you til you can’t talk, hold you down and come in you, fill up that tight pussy of yours and watch it drip out.”

Disgusting and filthy, Billy’s grin making it so much worse. But she nods her head and then jolts on top of him, screaming a little when she throbs deep inside, coming to the filth he promises her. Because she’d let him do that. Him holding her down is the fantasy she replays most, would love to give him a little bit of a struggle. Just enough that he’d have to actually use those muscles in his arms to keep her down, slide home, and fill her up. She has no idea what that feels like, but she clenches in waves like he’s inside her. She shakes with the power of those waves, jumps when Billy rocks under her and rubs them together through her orgasm. It’s too much when she’s done, poor clit shy and overly sensitive. He lets her go with little crescent indents in the backs of his hands from her nails. The world turns while Max’s heartbeat drums between her legs. Not as strong as her first orgasm with him. But definitely amazing and worth the effort.

She’s on her back then with Billy above her. Their positions flipped as he straddles her waist. His cock is shiny from her rubbing slick on him. That’s probably what it would look like if he pulled out while they were fucking. It gets her squirming on her back, trembling in his shadow. He doesn’t rest any of his weight on her. Not like she had. No, Billy stays aloft while his left hand strokes himself. He’s all eyes on her, right hand lazy where it squeezes one of her breasts. Always wanting to touch her chest and pinch her. She doesn’t stop him.

“Gonna come,” he pants. “You gonna be mad if I come on your tits?”

She grimaces through her afterglow, because that’s disgusting. She doesn’t immediately bite his head off, though. Because now she understands why he does some of the things he does. So she mulls it over, ignores the sweat on her upper lip and how it itches.

“I’ll let you if you take me to the arcade this weekend.”

“What?” He scowls. “You’re not gonna just let me do it?”

“I think that’s a fair trade.” She eyes his left hand wrapped around him. Unmoving now. “Take me to the arcade and you can come on my tits, that’s the deal.”

“This is extortion.”

She flicks an eyebrow up at him.

“That’s not what that word means. And you’re the one who wants to blow his load on me. There’s nothing in it for me.”

He eyes her, gives himself a few strokes. His head is much darker than when they’d started, balls drawn up tight. She recognizes it now from watching Billy jerk off next to her in the morning. She hasn’t helped yet, usually wakes up to him just as he comes.

“I’ll take you to the arcade and give you a roll of quarters if you let me come in your mouth instead.”

“What? No way, that’s so gross.”

Now she gets her hands up and starts pawing at his sides, pushing him away.

“Come on, I’m not asking you to swallow! You don’t even have to close your mouth.” He leans away from her hands scrambling at him. “Just keep your mouth open and let me come on your tongue, it’ll be hot!”

“For you!”

“You might like it.”

There hasn’t been anything they’ve done yet she didn’t like. Even when she glared at him and was ready to snap her teeth at him, it felt good. This is a lot more, though. Sort of crosses the line from them having sex to him sticking his dick in her. Just in the other end. And she’s never been interested in blowing a guy, not even Billy. It looks degrading. Still, she glares up at him and considers it. Because it’s Billy. Because he’s shaking hard, trying not to come, because he wants her to say yes. Blues eyes falling shut, she knows it’s going to taste awful. And she’s not swallowing, is more likely to spit his come back on him when they’re done. It would serve him right.

“Fine,” she growls. “An entire roll of quarters. And you don’t get to complain when we’ve been there for hours. I can make $10 last all day.”

Like he hadn’t heard any of that, Billy says, “Deal,” and then he’s off her. “Kneel on the floor, it’ll be easier.”

Rolling her eyes so hard she about gives herself a headache, Max pushes herself up. Her legs shake a bit when she tries to stand. Instead, she just slides off the edge of the mattress and sits on her knees on the carpet. Billy is there beside her, sitting on his ass with his thighs splayed wide. Like always. She knee-walks her way between them and stares down at his wet cock in his hand. Her stomach flips, nervous and disgusted, and she angles one last glare up at him. He has a grin waiting for her even though it causes him pain.

Shaking her head, she looks back down and grumbles, “I hope you know you’re the most repulsive person I’ve ever met.”

And just like always when she says things like this, Billy is right there with a purred, “You like it, Max, don’t lie. I know being nasty with me turns you on.”

Cheeks and ears on fire, Max says nothing to that. Because he’s right. Instead of taunting her further, his right hand drifts up to hold her jaw. Max takes a snap at it, clicks her teeth when she narrowly misses. He just chuckles at her and ignores her teeth, takes her jaw like he’d wanted. Billy angles her head just how he wants it, although he is gentle about it. Then his thumb pets over her lips, open up, and she obeys with only one last grimace.

“Stick your tongue out, lemme see inside you.”

Another roll of her eyes, but she obeys. He tilts her head back to find the perfect angle for all this. The blushing head of his dick never makes contact with her, hovers just above her tongue as he strokes hard and fast. Even his right hand trembles despite it only holding her head still. Max thinks to close her eyes during this, just to be petty. Billy likes looking at her, yes, but he also likes it more when she meets his eyes. As his moans grow louder and faster above her, she has a change of heart. Not moving her head in his grip, she meets his devil eyes with her tongue hanging out and watches his face when he comes.

Max holds her breath to close the back of her throat when his come splashes on her tongue. Warm and sticky. Violent for the first few spurts. Just like when he’d come on her Saturday, his body shakes hard with every pull of his fist. His fingers are tight around velvet skin, trembling and bleaching at the joints from how hard he holds himself. But he doesn’t stop or let her go until he squeezes every drop on her tongue. The moment his grip slackens at her jaw, Max draws her tongue back in her mouth. Only to lean over and drool his come all over one of his thighs, raking it off her tongue with her teeth and spitting a little. Disgusted noises follow once her mouth is clear of him except the aftertaste. Above her, Billy just flops on his back and groans.

“Now who’s the disgusting one,” he mumbles all blissed out and tired.

“I shouldn’t clean you up just for that comment.”

But she’s already staggering to her feet, still making faces at the taste on her tongue. Billy has mouthwash, thank Christ, and that’s her first task when she spills into the bathroom. Her legs are still jelly, but she can walk. She thinks maybe it’s because she’d sat on her knees while straddling him for so long, was so vigorous while rubbing them together. It’s like after a rough day at a skate spot falling down and messing up. No pain no gain, though.

Max rinses her mouth twice for good measure and then tends to herself with a wet rag. It comes away shiny when she wipes, hurts a little when the cloth rubs over her clit. Still too sensitive, even though Billy has whispered in her ear in the morning that he bets he can make her come more than once. If she wants to try. That he bets he can make her keep coming until she’s begging him to stop. Her body gives a feeble throb of interest, but she won’t be doing that today. Cloth rinsed and water squeezed out of it, she returns to Billy. He’s asleep with his come gone clear and watery on his thigh. He didn’t even move to lie on the bed properly, is just quietly asleep where he flopped on his back after coming.

Shaking her head at him but smiling, Max does him the favor of wiping his thigh and even his dick. He twitches in her hand, makes some soft noise in his sleep. He’s overly sensitive, too, hasn’t ever said anything about  _ him _ coming and coming until he’s begging for it to stop. Max snorts at the idea of Billy begging for anything. Even before—whining about letting him come on her—that wasn’t really begging. That was a child thinking they deserve a treat when they’ve actually done nothing to deserve said treat. He does give her good orgasms. And he is fun. He’s still an asshole, though. She leaves him there, throwing her clothes back on, and pokes around the kitchen for something to eat. Maybe she slaps a sandwich together for him for when he wakes up hungry in an hour or so. Maybe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello, everyone. You've made it to another Monday. Congratulations! Now it's time for me to spruce up this most hated of weekdays. I appreciate y'all so much, please make sure to let me know how ;D satisfying it was to finally read this chapter.
> 
> There's no song for this chapter. Just play any song you'd have sex to, honestly. "Let's Get It On" "Your Body is a Wonderland" that type of song. FUCKIN' music. Cuz they finally fuckin'! 
> 
> Writer's block sucks, BUT! I finished another fic Saturday. Am I entirely pleased with how it turned out? Not really. But y'all will hopefully enjoy it (even though it's an AU and Billy is... older, oops, I promise I'm not writing him a lot older all the time >3<). So that means I'll be publishing another one-shot Friday! I also started the next fic which DOES take place in canon, so look forward to that after groaning just now teehee~  
> Friday's treat is titled "Show and Tell" and takes place post season two with no Upside Down.... and it's a Zootopia fusion... so they're furries. I apologize in advance if you've just recoiled in disgust. It's... really hot. If you like size difference. Which I do. Maybe u~u give it a shot. For me. I have not steered my Billy/Max fans wrong yet, I like to think. And no hard feelings if you don't like it. I won't be upset at all, so please don't feel like you HAVE to read it. Or anything I publish for that matter. This is a no obligation relationship. Come and go (hurhur) as you please. And with that~ Enough talk, let's read.

On their way home from the arcade, Billy about to climb up the walls from boredom, they miss the turn onto N Marina Drive. Which would take them home. Max immediately shoots him a look. Because they’d been at the arcade long enough for her to proudly show off the Dig Dug kill screen—even though Billy didn’t understand what he was looking at—and Max is ready for a shower and a sit on the couch. Maybe some fooling around. Billy was distracting and all over her while she played. Being disgusting and annoying. So Billy extending their trip home is cause for suspicion. He couldn’t wait to leave the arcade. She thought it was because he was bored or just wanted to get home to get his hands on her more. Now she thinks maybe it’s that but also something else. His grin is too excited. 

“Where are we going?”

“Making a little pit stop at a friend’s place, won’t take long.” He reaches across the center console to feel up her thigh. Shorts today since they’d skipped skating. She lets him, even wiggles to open her legs wider. Billy’s hand is pleasantly warm with the AC blowing directly on her. “I’ll leave the car running, it’ll be a quick in and out.”

Long enough in front of a dusty, slumped house that looks abandoned for Billy to come out in a cloud of skunkiness. Max wrinkles her nose the moment he drops into the Camaro and spreads the smell around him. 

“What, is this your dealer’s place or something?”

“What gave it away? The dankness?”

He is all loose grins and warm eyes beside her, can’t keep his hand off her thigh even though the car is running and they’re just sitting here. She meets his eyes and then barks a single laugh almost in his face.

“Oh my god, are you high right now?”

He winks with his tongue already in his teeth.

“Just a little bit. Gonna get you home and do you next.” He leans closer, right in Max’s personal space, and waggles his eyebrows. “And then actually do you, know what I’m saying?”

She presses her amusement between her lips and mushes him away with a hand on his face. It doesn’t stop him from trying to bite her hand. Or lick her.

“You are ridiculous,” she laughs. Excited at the prospect, so many firsts with Billy, she asks, “Do you think I’ll like it? Being high?”

Billy shrugs, throws the Camaro back into drive.

“I hope so. Only gonna get you a little high in case you don’t. Or in case you’re one of those poor bastards that just goes completely catatonic when they’re high. So sad.”

“What, like you just pass out? I thought people were supposed to be spiritual and giddy when they’re high.”

“I mean sure some people are.” They pull up beside the Cadillac and get out, Billy leading the way up the porch. “I’m not like that. I chill out while I’m high. Horny as fuck though, so good luck.”

“Like you’re not horny all the time,” she mutters under her breath.

If Billy hears her, he doesn’t respond. He makes for his room, waves Max towards the bathroom when she follows him.

“Shower first. I don’t want you trying to shower high off your ass and fall or hurt yourself.”

“Awww, you do care,” she teases with a grin, still following him into his bedroom to strip. He doesn’t object, sits on the edge of the mattress with what looks like the lid of a cardboard box across his thighs. “What are you doing?”

“Grinding weed and packing a pipe for us, duh.” He pinches her belly, and she jumps away. “Never you mind this part, just go shower.” To her back, almost as an afterthought he adds, “Don’t forget who that pussy belongs to, so keep your hands off.”

As Max closes the door, she sasses, “Oh, I’m definitely jerking off now.”

Through said door, Billy's voice reaches her, “Don’t be like that.”

She won’t. They know she won’t, because Billy is right here. He hits all her spots better than Max ever could. Max just grins to herself in the mirror, shakes her head at him. His pursuant nature always ramps up when he’s horny. Or they’re going to try something new. Case in point him almost forgoing his routine shower Wednesday when he’d come home with his face beaten in. All because Max wanted to fuck. Not with him smelling like diesel exhaust, though. The bruising has gone down significantly around his nose. His eyes aren’t puffy plums anymore. No lasting damage, even though it would probably only increase his attractiveness.

He must be excited to see how Max will be while high. Shoving her off into the shower without a kiss or fondling her or promising her dirty things speaks for his excitement. Hurry up and get clean so he can smoke her out and then play. She climbs into the shower, makes quick work of her routine, and bets that he’s hoping she’ll be horny just like him. Bottom lip in her teeth, Max hopes so, too. She’s never gotten high, but some girlfriends in San Diego have. They warned her it took a lot to keep their boyfriends hard while fooling around. Something about the high making it difficult for them to keep an erection, although not because they weren’t horny and into it. Max can just imagine Billy limp and annoyed, rubbing on her belly or thigh to work himself up and failing. She already knows she’ll laugh him right into a bad mood. But she so rarely gets to laugh at his expense…

Once she’s out of the shower and dry, Billy ushers her outside in yet another one of his t-shirts and shorts. She’s brought the shorts back but not his shirts. She’s keeping those for as long as he’ll continue to entertain her. The desert heat smacks them in the face all over again, and Max whines about them just smoking inside with a window open. But Billy puts his foot down about that, says that if he can’t smoke inside, neither can she. Comfort be damned. They have a stand-off with her glaring up at him, chin jutted out. But it’s a lost cause, and she relents with a roll of her eyes and a huff. Crosses her arms for good measure.

“Hurry up and get me high, I’m gonna need another shower after this.”

“You are not using up more of the hot water,” he warns, pipe and lighter in his hands. He’s snagged a beer from the fridge, too, and Max is in charge of holding it. She takes a sip as he talks, just to spite him. “I’m showering when we get back inside. I think I can trust you enough to just melt into the couch or my bed while I’m in there. Might take you a little while to feel it anyway, who knows.”

The idea of being alone during Billy’s short showers makes her stomach clench. He reads it clear as day, lowers the pipe from his lips to say, “You’ll be fine. If you freak out, just come get me. You’re not gonna freak out anyway, so don’t worry.”

“How do you know that?”

Blue eyes narrow at her above a scowl.

“Jeez Max, will you just trust me on this? If you don’t wanna get high, just tell me, I’m not gonna make you.”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles from behind the can, sipping again. It’s cold in her mouth, and the can feels good in her sweaty hands. “Just hurry up, it’s fucking hot out here.”

Pipe in front of his mouth again, Billy rolls his eyes and grumbles, “No shit. Anyway, I’m gonna pull for you, all you gotta do is inhale when I turn the pipe around, okay? Like you’re breathing through a straw, that’s all you gotta do.”

She thinks he also mumbles to himself, “Gotta remember to give you a baby hit, not a full one,” but he’s already flicking the lighter with the pipe to his lips, so she just lets it go. 

There must be a trick to it. She pays close attention, leans closer to see what he’s doing but can’t make sense of it. Billy holds his thumb weird over the side of the bowl, covering… a little hole in the glass? The more she looks and twists her head to watch white smoke billow in the chamber, the more confused she is. Excited to try it but confused on the ritual of it all. It’s her turn soon enough, and a wisp of smoke curls out of the end where she’s supposed to put her mouth. Eyeing Billy with the last fragment of her uncertainty, she presses her lips around the opening of the pipe and inhales. 

It burns immediately.

“Inhale slow, don’t—”

Max coughs and wheezes over whatever he’d been about to say. One of her knees jerks up with the power of her diaphragm bucking. Through watery eyes, she watches Billy roll his skyward and then nudge the beer in her hand. Something about the carbonation helping when she coughs, he’d said. Knowing she would cough. Eyes full and about to overflow, Max flicks Billy off as he breaks into a grin. At the same time, she takes a little sip when she can stop coughing for a fucking second. It’s not easy. She almost chokes but manages to get enough liquid down her throat to soothe the awful scratch from the smoke.

“Ow,” she rasps. 

“Yea, that part can suck if you’re not ready.”

The lighter flicks as he pulls for himself this time. Max tries to hand him the beer, thinking he’ll want it too, but he waves her away. He’s nice enough to aim his exhale downwind of them instead of blowing the smoke right in Max’s face. She looks up too, sways on her feet when she drops her head back down to meet Billy’s eyes. The world isn’t quite solid under her anymore, and she staggers with her free hand already out to catch herself on the wooden railing of the porch. Rising up from deep inside her, spreading out like a flood in the desert, heat creeps in her skin. It has nothing to do with the blazing temperatures out here. When it hits her scalp like a hundred fingers gently scratching her, Max shivers and coos a little. Billy’s grin is that much wider when he goes for a second hit.

“Oh yea, little red feels it. This is gonna be great.”

She wants to flick him off again, but she can’t let go of the railing. Somehow, the beer is still in her other hand. She hasn’t dropped it or forgotten about it and just let it go. Maybe Billy feels along that thought, because he carefully pries the beer out of her hand, gestures for her to walk back into the trailer. He’s hot on her heels, a furnace along her back and making her sweat even more. When Billy closes the door behind them and guides her to the couch, Max falls into his spot. And then immediately slumps over to lie down.

“Yea, Max?”

She grunts something, frowning with her eyes closed. When she opens them, Billy is squatting in front of her. On a delay, she flinches back, not expecting him to be that close. Somehow, the bruise from his broken nose compliments his eyes. She can’t stop staring at them.

“How’s it feel?” He asks with his voice hitting the bottom of his register. Suggestive. Full of purpose.

Squirming on her side, Max mumbles, “Like I’m floating. And my skin is tingly.”

He hums, lifts a hand to pet the chill already seeping into her arm. She shivers under the touch and makes a whine for him when Billy shifts down to pet her thigh instead. Max has enough strength and awareness to lift her head to watch his tan hand glide back and forth over the milkiness of her thigh. But his hand feels like it’s everywhere all at once. In her hair, on her shoulders, up and down her chest and belly. Everywhere. It’s a lot to process, and she turns big eyes on him. Not quite scared. Just unsure.

“You’re all right,” he purrs, bending closer. She lets him kiss her, jerk on a delay like her flinch to steal another kiss when he backs off. He just smirks at her coordination degrading quickly. “Feels good, huh?”

She has to think about it but nods after what feels like hours. It’s only been seconds for the rest of the world, and Billy’s hand can’t help but reach for her face to pet her here, too. 

“I’m gonna shower, and then we can have some fun. Think I owe you a blowjob, if I remember correctly.”

It’s funny when he calls it that, and Max tries to hide her face when she giggles. But he still has her by the jaw, so she just scrunches up in his hand all cute and shy. He coos to her, kisses her forehead, and then he’s away. 

“Behave while I’m gone. Not that I think you can even move right now.”

He chuckles as he walks away, Max barely lifting her head in time to watch him disappear down the hallway. His words finally hit her, and she grumbles a curse through lips that don’t want to move. It’s the most she’s ever felt disconnected from her body. A little like having the wind knocked out of her and then she can do nothing but lie on her back and wait for her brain to work again. But there’s no fear of not being able to breathe or make a sound. She can’t stop giggling, actually, keeps thinking up things that just make her laugh more. That passes when she runs out of breath and can’t laugh anymore, lying curled up on the sofa with an arm hanging down. The carpet isn't shaggy enough for her to do much more than scratch at it with her fingers. She'd rather scratch something else. Something warm that will scratch her back. Touch her again like earlier when Billy’s hand had felt like it was everywhere. She wants that again. Billy has been gone for hours, days. How long does it take to shower?

Standing is a creative process. Max has to figure out how to get her legs to listen to her, usually a mindless task. And then once she’s up, convincing her knees to stop shaking and not buckle right under her is a separate task. These tremors are not as intense as, say, after Billy makes her come. Mmm, but that sounds fun, and Max shivers like he’s here and already touching her. He won’t mind her joining him in the shower. With that thought, Max shoves at the elastic around her hips until Billy’s shorts have no choice but to slide down her legs and pool around her feet. No panties, because there’s no point. It’s too cold in here for her to take the shirt off, already shivering and holding herself as she staggers down the hall, leaning into the wall occasionally. It reminds her of Billy swaying on his feet on Wednesday. He’d looked like a clown with the face paint all messed up. Max muffles a giggle behind her hand while the other paws at the bathroom doorknob. Billy never locks the door. It pops right open. 

“Max?”

The shower is still going, steam caressing her frigid skin and enveloping her. Beyond the shower liner, Billy’s body is just warped shapes. Eyes on the prize, Max stumbles the two or so steps she needs, a monumental task at this point, to reach the foggy liner and slap at it. Enough to peel it from the wall and wiggle in. Billy doesn’t look surprised to see her, but he barks in laughter at her climbing in still wearing his shirt. When she reaches for him, mindless of the spray wetting her skin and hair all over again, he welcomes her. Even does her the service of leaning her against the plastic wall, caging her in with his warmth and power.

“What are you doing in here, hmm?”

He bows his head to murmur against her forehead, strands of red already sticking to her. She shivers in the cage of his body, finds enough strength to lift her hands to touch him. The fingers of her left hand find the valleys of his abs and scratches her nails lightly over his muscles. They twitch under her, Billy leaning into the caress. Her right hand is bolder, helps itself to between his legs to play with the head of his cock. He likes that more, ducks down to mouth kisses across her cheek to take her lips. She isn’t coordinated enough to kiss him back, just tries to keep the gap between her lips small so she feels his tongue lapping into her. Murky eyes fluttering shut, Max gives him a little whine when he pulls away. Pouting, Max makes a fist around Billy’s cock and squeezes.

“Yea?” He sighs through an exhale, sucks in another breath through his teeth when she just starts stroking him. She wants to see if he’ll get hard, since he’s high, too. “Mmm my little red couldn’t wait anymore huh?”

Max cranes her head forward to smear her mouth across his chest, sucking at healing marks she’d given him Wednesday. She’d make plenty more if he would stay still and if she could get her balance to cooperate. Under her soaked shirt, Billy’s hands on her waist are the only things keeping her upright. At least the water is hot and chases heat back into her skin. Despite that and Billy standing as a wall of body heat in front of her, she can’t stop shivering. 

“I’m cold,” she whines. 

“What should we do about that?”

She leans her cheek into his chest, right over his heart, and laughs, “I can think of a few things.”

“I’m listening.”

Her teeth take over her bottom lip before she mouths another kiss to his chest. 

Lips smearing over his skin, Max murmurs, “Eat me out.”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

Nuzzling him next, she groans, “And finger me.”

“That goes without saying, little red. Wonder how many fingers I can squeeze in you while you’re high. How much I can stretch you.”

Max’s next groan is obscene and echoes off the bathroom walls. Because as he says that, her mind supplies her with the exact weight and pressure of a thick finger moving inside her. Max almost throws a wild look down to make sure Billy isn’t actually doing it. His voice and the high must come together to make her body squirm and clench like they’re already on his bed with her thighs spread wide. She wants that, wants so badly to know how much he can fit in her. Her little hand wrapped around his cock tightens harder than before. Over the rasp of her panting, Billy’s deep hum tickles her ears. He’s horny, too. Perfect. 

“I-I don’t know.” She trembles, thinks about it, gathers her courage and whimpers, “Fuck me, Billy.”

Billy’s chest shakes with his deeply amused laughter. Below, he presses her flush to the wall and slips his left hand down. She’s still got a firm, if unmoving, grip on him. He returns the favor and pets his fingers over her clit. That part of her has been a vague, humming sensation until now. Her clit and everything between her legs tingles like the rest of her skin, but it’s so much more with Billy’s fingers swirling and pressing and rubbing. Max’s knees finally buckle, but Billy is ready for her. She doesn’t even slip an inch down the wall as he leans more weight into her. Pinning her there. She can’t escape.

Head tipped up and hoping for a kiss, Max whines, “Billy!”

“Is that what you want, little red? Wanna try my dick in your pussy?”

Uhg, it’s not any less disgusting while she’s high. Maybe she should think more about this. Maybe she should make this decision when she’s not high and without Billy already playing with her body. They’ve been fucking around for a week. Max knows what she wants, isn’t afraid of his body any more. Remembering his question, Max nods her head so wildly that her hair slaps against her shoulders, sticks to Billy’s skin. 

“Hurry up,” Max grunts. She shakes her hand free from around his cock only to scratch all her nails down his back. Just to feel him surge against her and hiss from the pain. She wants to do that while he’s in her. If they get that far. “Want you.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

Max is useless when Billy has to pick her up a little to get her feet over the wall of the tub. It’s a tangle of her arms and her hair to peel Billy’s soaked shirt off her. It lands with a wet slap in the bottom of the tub. Billy rushes through drying them with his damp towel, forgoing combing their hair, and then Billy dumps Max on his bed. She barely remembers the shower ending or him squeezing water out of her hair. It all runs together with her head swimming on her shoulders. Billy kneeling above her, his hands gentle at her jaw, slows the world down. He watches her for a spell, just lets her shake and coo a little between his hands. The longer blue meets blue, the hotter Max’s pretty face flushes.

“Billy…”

She wants to reach up and tug on his wrists. To hurry him along, even though she knows he’ll take his time winding her up until she comes. He keeps teasing about not stopping after she’s come once. To see how easily she’ll come again, how many orgasms he can wring out of her. With her skin buzzing and so alive? And he’s barely touching her but she’s already rubbing her thighs together just to feel something? Max groans in his hands with her head tilting back. She’ll do anything to get him to come down and touch her more.

“I wanna hear you say it, Max.” His thumbs pet under her eyes until she opens them and looks at him again. He is intense, the thing prowling this entire time around her, stealing her into the dark sometimes. She’s ready to stay there with him and let him do whatever he wants. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Head too fuzzy to do much more than glare at him, because she’s already told him what she wants, Max grumbles, “Fuck me.”

Snorting, Billy drawls, “You can do better than that.”

“You just… wanna hear me say gross stuff.”

“Uh yea? Because it’s hot and turns me on. Come on, you know I’m good for it.”

He grins and sweetens the deal, sweeps down to mouth messy, rough kisses to her lips. She’s whining with her mouth wide open while trying to shove his tongue back in his mouth. Fucking animal.

“Fucking animal,” she swears, thought too vicious to keep to herself. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yea, like that. Talk dirty to me, Max.”

Max’s eyes roll as she shakes her head—although slowly to not send the world spinning. It’s fun to play along with him. Even if it’s embarrassing, it truly does get Billy revved up and going to hear her talk. It’s the fastest way to get what she wants.

Getting into it, wanting to play along, Max gives him a hooded stare taken right out of his book and asks, “You wanna be the first dick I take?”

She could not make him shiver more even if she’d drawn her nails up his spine.

“Fuck yea, I do.” He shuffles closer, and Max’s thighs open for him. Max is mindless to their nudity, used to his intimate skin now.

“Better make it good for me.”

More, more, he loves it, she reads it in his bright eyes like words on a page as he grins.

“You know I will. Gotta make it perfect for my little red, get my tongue and fingers in you first until you’re begging for more.” Billy dips low again, and his body heat washes over her. Their lips almost touch with each purred word. “Wanted to hold you down and fuck you hard since I first saw you. Just bend you over the hood of my car, pull your panties to the side, and slide right into your tight pussy. Thought about it every time I looked at you, Max.”

A moan chokes in her throat when everything between her legs gives an agonizing throb. Max’s next exhale is a shuddering one, stumbles over her lips when she parts them to meet Billy for a kiss. He guides her flat to the bed and holds her there by her throat while bobbing his head through gentle kisses. Better than him tearing into her. It gets her squirming again and whining for more. His palm catches each tiny noise she makes, and he gives her hums back. They make each other feel good, wind each other up by talking and looking at each other. Max isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be this good, if it’ll ever be this good with anyone else. She just wants Billy so terribly, deeply. 

They separate only for Billy to tuck his face to Max’s neck. She doesn’t let him leave marks here, because none of her shirts would hide it. That doesn’t stop him from kissing her, biting and sucking gently just to tease. A taste of what he’ll do to the rest of her, because her breasts, belly, and thighs all belong to him. For him to leave teeth marks and purple bruises from his lips. His marks from Wednesday linger, but she knows he’ll want to paint more onto the blank canvas of her. Max squirms and arches her chest as he slips down. He takes his hand from around her throat, too, even though that’d made her heart race and her stomach drop out. It’s something she’ll have to remember. For the future.

Mouth busy sucking new marks on her breasts, Billy’s hands can’t keep to themselves. He rests some of his weight on top of her so he can use both hands to fondle her thighs. Each pinch he sprinkles amongst the gentle back and forth petting of his hands earns him a jump from Max. But with Billy’s bulk holding her down, not quite pinning her like in the shower, she doesn’t get very far. Even when Billy scoops her legs behind each knee and draws them up until her feet are flat on his bed, the leverage isn’t enough to buck Billy off. She tries, just for fun. Just to see if being high maybe gives her stupid strength or something. But no, just like Max stumbling in the living room, she’s as weak as a kitten. Mewls a little like one when Billy’s hands rasp up her inner thighs to let his fingers scratch through fiery hair.

“More,” she pants, arching under him as best she can, giving it her all. When he just smirks around a nipple, goes right on suckling, Max tangles her shaking hands in his curls and pulls. “I said more!”

Giving Billy a lick of pain like he does with his teeth to her is the key to all this. He sinks his teeth into her one more time, hard enough that the indents sting, and then wiggles down her body. Right to the heart of things, his hooded stare up her body hovering above her mound. She giggles thinking this is a repeat of last Saturday. Only she knows so much more, now; almost all her fear and shame melt under the heat of him. His encouragement and excitement and desire for her melts it. Her hands slowly seek out his hair again. Not to pull but to pet. She has her moments of gentleness just like him. He is equally skittish, though, shoots her a look like, ‘Don’t mess with me.’ Max winds her fingers around soft curls, already a little dry, and gives them the softest tug.

“Down,” she huffs. 

Hips wider than his give a tiny hop. Coaxing his eyes down long enough for him to catch the shine of slick between her folds. Long enough for him to lick his lips, ready to dive into her. Always ready for mischief, he grins up at her before blowing a cool stream of air on her. Maybe if she weren’t high it wouldn’t make her shiver and buck so hard. Maybe she wouldn’t tug at his hair again and almost pout at him. She’s above pouting, but he’s being mean now. Teasing her when they both want this. Huffing again and recalling through the fog of her high that Billy likes hearing her talk, she gathers something idiotic to say. For him.

“What’s taking so long? You gonna fuck me with your tongue or just look at it?”

He’s high, too. She has to remember that. So when he closes his eyes and moans, fingers twitching in the creases of her thighs, it’s a beautiful sight. 

Breathing a little harder, Max goes on, “It’s gonna take a lot more than tongue to fit your dick in me, Billy.”

Her voice bottoms out for his name. Not anywhere close to his register but the bottom of hers. He shivers hard between her thighs, the hair on his arms probably standing up, and he opens his eyes to aim all his molten desire at her. He says nothing, just bows his head with his curls still in her fingers. Blue meets blue for a few blinks, for Billy to get some filthy licks in before Max’s slam shut. She immediately bucks into his mouth, rutting against his face as she pulls him tightly to her. Billy gives a muffled groan, maybe pain from smashing his nose against her mound. But she doesn’t care, can’t care, because he drags slick up from her aching center all the way up to her clit and then seals his mouth around her. And sucks.

A bellow of a moan rips out of her, low and fluttery, but turns high when Billy keeps up the pressure of his mouth. Max’s fingers no longer tug on his hair. They don’t have to, because he’s right where she wants him. She needs to hold on to something, though, so she blindly shoves her hands to the firmness of his skull, holds him tightly, and then rocks into his face. Her feet flat on the bed finally give her leverage and purchase. If Billy makes any noise of objection or pain, he isn’t loud enough through the wet and pink of her rubbing all over him. His hands shake a little when he loops his arms under her thighs, dragging her impossibly closer. When he finally pulls off her clit with a growl, he cranes his head up to sink his teeth into her mound. Hard.

“Fuck, Billy!”

She spasms like she’s coming. But it’s not nearly as intense. Just a little rush, just a few waves of pleasure rolling through her. There’s nothing in her to squeeze yet, although Billy doesn’t let that go on for much longer. He buries his face between her legs again, stabs at her entrance with his tongue. Wet, wriggling heat trying to squirm inside her. She jolts just once from the sensation, but melts into a puddle under him. He’s worked the initial tension out of her. Maybe she came, who knows. She certainly won’t ask him to stop, keeps her hands firm around his head. Not directing anymore. Just something to hold. When her palms begin to sweat, she slips them free of his hair and grips his forearms draped across the tops of her thighs instead. This way, she can carve her nails into him and see the indents later. Her marks on him. She shudders, and then her body gives, Billy’s tongue darting filthy and fast, in and out, in and out.

Max’s moans set up a rhythm with whatever his tongue does. When he stabs it through her velvet entrance, her moans are pretty and high, coming and going with his thrusts. When he’s bored with that and just tries to wiggle his tongue as deep as her tightness will allow, she barely breathes at all. It feels too good. The high makes it that much more intense. She’s had his mouth on her before. And even that first time made her quake and squeal. Now it’s all she can do to not come. Or not come again? From the build up of energy inside her, heavier and burning, different, she thinks maybe she did come moments ago. When Billy hums and draws his tongue away, slides up to trace it instead around her hood, up and down, he uncurls his left arm from her thigh. She cracks an eye open in time to meet his when he glides the first finger into her. She barely feels it, opens both eyes with her face steaming as she stares him down.

“Another. I can take it.”

His eyebrows go high, but still he does not speak. He’s being rather agreeable right now. Probably because he’s eager to finally seal the deal. If he weren’t so gentle with her, always so eager to jump on her and make her feel good, she might be suspicious that’s all he wants. To get his dick in her and be done. The twisted, weird obsession men have with ‘claiming’ virgins or whatever. Billy has it too, just maybe not to the degree she’s familiar with. Maybe he doesn’t care about the virginity thing at all, is just turned on by the idea he’ll be her first. He’s been many firsts for her, and she can’t think of a better way to have those firsts. Because he knows what he’s doing, knows how to play her body so well. She wouldn’t get this from a boy her age.

With one more sloppy lick to her clit, sending a jolt through her, Billy sits up a bit. Max’s frown rushes onto her face a little delayed, everything sluggish thanks to the high. She thinks it’s wearing off, but she wouldn’t know. Her reactions are delayed, but Billy is still a smooth operator. He unwinds his other arm from Max, gets his elbows under him, and then slides his right hand between her thigh and pelvis. His thumb isn’t shy at all about petting her labia and then holding her open. So he can see his finger sink in and out of her. Obscene. More so when he flicks his eyes up to her only to nudge the tips of two fingers to her hole. She flinches, whole body jumping, and winces when he doesn’t pull away. It stings.

“Relax,” he rumbles deep in his throat. His thumb lets her go to pet her up and down the crease of her thigh, doesn’t stop until she’s flat on the bed again. Max clings to Billy’s sheets and wishes for his skin under her nails instead. Only when she’s calm do his fingers push deeper. “Take a breath, little red, it’ll feel good again. Trust me.”

She trusts him, almost says that she does. Max grits her teeth and then exhales nice and slow. Fresh memories of his tongue just now get her shivering. Not as hard as when he’d actually shoved his tongue in her. But she recalls it so vividly that it’s like he’s right back there, wet to his damn eyebrows with his face flush to her. It’s just like him petting her thigh on the couch. His hand felt like it was everywhere on her. This is the same, too. He’s barely inside her, letting her get used to it. Or to get over the sting. But she knows what it’s like when he has his middle finger in her all the way to the flat of his knuckles. Twitching sometimes or pressing ever so slightly on the roughness of her g-spot. She knew the word before Billy, but he said it a few times while they fooled around in the morning. Or when she woke up to his finger already inside her. 

That’s where she wants him right now, wiggles to shove herself onto his fingers. It stings again, though, like she’s not wet enough. Like maybe his fingers aren’t wet enough. Skin is catching somewhere, and it hurts. Her wince is honest, not trying to hide it. Billy sighs where he’s propped up on his elbows and slides out, actually gets his knees under him to sit up. Max paws at him as he crawls over her and stretches his arm out. For the nightstand. She has yet to snoop, forgot about him teasing that she’d find something in the drawer. Max cranes her head in a comical angle to try and see, upside down, into the drawer. But of course it’s not within her line of sight. Billy nestles himself back between her thighs soon enough, although not empty handed.

“It’s lube, before you ask,” he says with a little grin. Reassuring. “You’re horny enough for it, just a little dry, probably the weed. This will help make all your dreams come true.”

A snort curls out of her.

“Oh, you think your dick is good enough for me to dream about it?”

“I know you probably rubbed one out while thinking about me. At least once, I see the way you look at me, Max.” 

He’s got her there, so she huffs and denies him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. Cap snapped up and then back down, finished with it for now, Billy shoves the lube under the sheet they sleep with. It’s wrinkled and twisted up where they’d kicked it this morning while rolling out of bed. Maybe Billy will need more later. If they get farther. Max wants to and so relaxes into the pillow under her with a sigh. Shuffles her shoulders and wiggles to get comfortable again. When slippery, slightly cool fingers pet lube up and down the seam of her, nervous energy finds its way into Max’s hands. She has to do something, touch something. So, she smooths her hands up her ribs and cups her breasts, rolls them in her palms and squeezes them. With more gentleness than Billy, but that doesn’t stop Max from pinching her nipples and pressing her fingers into his marks. The attention sends a welcome bolt where his fingers nudge her open again. The glide is smooth this time. Perfect. No stinging.

“Fuck,” pops out of her, breathy and light. Max shifts her hips a little to move herself on him. “Fuck that’s…”

“Good?”

She nods, bites back a noise and pinches her nipples harder.

“Are you-are you all the way in?”

The glide of his thick fingers plunging into her, thrusting a few times, and then going still as deep as they’ll go is her answer.

“Now I am,” he purrs. She can’t open her eyes yet to see where he is, if he’s lying back down or sitting up to watch her. His right hand keeps her skin drawn back so her body swallowing him down is on display for him. “Fuck, little red, you’re so goddamn tight…”

“Keep going,” she pants, starts to move on him. “Fuck me harder, do it.”

The bed shifts, and then his tongue dips into her navel. If she were sober, her legs jumping from the shock would probably knee him somewhere tender. But thanks to the high, Max only twitches and squeals a little. Billy just laughs a huff or two into her belly and licks a few more times. It’s strangely intimate, not exactly unpleasant, but she doesn’t know if she likes it. He stops, though, and keeps right on fingering her in that same, steady rhythm as before.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me, Max. So fucking hot. A lot of girls won’t.”

Billy doesn’t often share little details like that. Details of his experiences. Like him mentioning his previous brush with rape, too. It always comes out in moments where he wants to reassure her or encourage her. She knows he isn’t lying. What’s in it for him if he lies? Nothing in this case.

She sighs, opens her eyes to roll them, and says to the ceiling, “Sounds stupid when I say it, but if it turns you on…”

He crooks his fingers, gives her short, fast thrusts right into her sweet spot. It gets her moaning again, her voice shredding through every pant that rushes out of her. But he slows back down just as quickly and only teases his fingers over her walls. Prick.

A gentle bite to the soft spot under her navel and then, “Huge fucking turn on, Max, you have no idea.”

If he’s looking at her, then the blush that bleeds into the peach and freckles of her face is all for him. She may not find the dirty talk—hers anyway—arousing. But knowing it excites Billy and gets him going? That she does that to him? That’s her turn on. Billy’s already bloated ego would probably burst if he knew. 

Voice still breathy, Max writhes a little on his fingers and moans, “Feels good again.”

Billy retreats to maybe an inch inside her, maybe to his first knuckles, and spreads his fingers apart. She instantly tightens up, but he’s stronger than her. Eyes flying wide open, Max stares at the ceiling while a rough moan fights its way out of her throat between her frantic panting. She’s sure his electric eyes are right on the action, watching the obscene spread of her body. How pink and wet she is, even more so with the lube. Fighting against his strength. Max doesn’t dare touch her nipples, too scared she’ll come again. Not yet. He has more in store for her. She wants more.

Billy’s voice is like a hand petting over her shivering skin, all over her, when he hums, “My little red likes that, huh? You like me stretching you out?”

He relaxes only to do it again, forcing her open on his fingers. Max’s throaty moans quiet when he isn’t prying her apart. They bubble out of her once more when he does it over and over. It’s intense right at her entrance, so much attention, and she almost slips a shaking hand down from her breasts to bat at him. To make him stop or at least go back to thrusting. He slides back all the way inside only to curl his fingers over her sweet spot again. Frustrated growl cutting through her whimpers, Max tips her chin down and glares at him. She doesn’t often see his face tint with a blush. But he’s flushed across his cheeks and into his ears. Staring between her legs and having to do a double take when he notices her glare.

“Enjoying the view?”

Her voice doesn’t have quite its usual bite. Billy notices, his grin so sleazy and smug. The way her breaths stutter and how she shivers through every sensation clues him in to just how much he’s hitting all the right spots. He stops rolling his fingertips back and forth over said sweet spot and finally does when she’s wanted him to do. The wet slap of his knuckles against her burns her ears until they’re bright red, but she can’t do anything about it. It’ll just be louder with his dick in her, because he’ll certainly want to tease her just like he is now. He probably loves it, the awful sounds he makes with her body. It tracks with how much of an animal he is.

“I could sit here and finger you all day.”

Rocking forward on his knees and slapping his right hand into the bed, Billy hovers over her. She recognizes the slightest tilt of his head, reciprocates in kind so their noses don’t bash together. Below, his thick fingers never stop thrusting. So his lips grin against hers, tongue fucking her too. His mouth catches every one of Max’s whimpers. Max’s little hands can’t tear themselves away from her breasts fast enough to cup his shoulder blades. Finally, finally his skin is under her nails again as she claws him. It’s Max’s turn to swallow his moan. It tickles the back of her throat from how deep it is. They break apart only for Billy to kiss her harder, forcing her head into the pillow until it fluffs up. His viper tongue flicking and twisting with hers, Max forgets to breathe through her nose. So her twinkling moans spill out when Billy pulls off her. Off and out, leaving her empty and aching for him everywhere.

“No,” she rasps. “No, don’t stop…”

He’s back with another kiss smeared to her messy lips, although he does not take her mouth again.

“I’m not,” he promises. Threatens. His wet fingers caressing her thigh are gross, but she doesn’t stop him. “Wanna see if I fit in you yet?”

She grimaces with her eyes closed. Partially because he’s in her face, eating up her every twitch. Partially because she doesn’t think it’ll work.

“I’m too tight,” she grumbles.

“Nah,” Billy drawls right back. “You’re right on the line of too tight, though. That’s the best way to be, Max. So tight you feel every inch of me sliding into you, stretching you out more.” He shivers and draws a breath between his teeth. She can just see them, blinding in their whiteness, terribly sharp. “Wanna fuck you so bad, Max.”

Her high is definitely starting to wear off. Because instead of an enthusiastic nod, Max cracks her eyes open to seek his… almost shyly. Some part of her continues to cling to a tiny bit of her fear. Of pain and blood. It’s supposed to hurt the first time.

“You’ll stop if I tell you to. If I say it hurts, you’ll stop.”

It’s not a question. She’s telling him, and Billy nods without snark or a smirk.

“I’ll stop.” His gaze flicks down to her mouth, how she rolls her lips into a flat line. He returns to her eyes waiting for him after a second. “You still wanna try? I’m not gonna make you, you know.”

“You already know what I’d do if you tried.”

They share a smile and a few bubbles of laughter. Nothing loud, no guffawing or knee slapping. It’s affectionate despite their sharp, prickly natures. Max even cranes her head up to kiss Billy first, moans softly when he guides her right back down. The mattress shifts under them as he adjusts his position on his knees. The first brush of his body lying down on top of her is exciting and scary. He weighs every pound he should for all that muscle. She gives him a jump, although her strength is nothing under the bulk of him. Her thighs part around his hips without any directive, without her thinking about it. She’s too busy bobbing her head with Billy, matching his lips kiss for kiss. It’s a good enough distraction for her to tuck away her lingering fear. That tiny bit of her that’s insecure is so annoying. She wants to tear it to shreds and rub it out like a cigarette under her heel. 

Tearing away from him and already panting, Max grunts, “Do it. I wanna feel you in me.”

His shiver is that much more intense since he’s lying on top of her. She shivers, too, when he pecks her one more time, numb to the prick of his moustache after kissing so much. Then he’s up and away again, tacky hand sliding under the sheet for lube. She can’t find it in her to be disappointed he’s using it. It’ll make things easier and more comfortable for them. It’s not a failure on anyone’s part. She imagines with a snort that if they were doing anal or if she were a guy they’d have to use lube anyway. It’s not a big deal, and she coos instead of squirming away in disgust when Billy drips fresh, clear lube right on her clit. It slides down her pink skin, and he has to catch it with his fingers, fucking some of it into her. His hand is already shiny when he squeezes more lube into his palm and then slicks himself up. He watches her while getting hard. It doesn’t take a lot. He’s probably been at half mast the entire time eating her out and fingering her. She does that to him.

More shuffling on his knees. Max’s legs are already open wide and inviting. Dick in hand, Billy grumbles and cranes forward to snatch the pillow he usually sleeps on. She thinks she hears, “Gonna need to wash this,” but she doesn’t question it. She just yelps when Billy lifts her hips with the one hand and sort of nudges the pillow under her. Propping her butt up higher. To make this easier or better. For who, she isn’t sure, just swallows hard as heat creeps into her face. They’re doing this. She’s going to lose her virginity to this scumbag. This scumbag who’d held her after Neil raped her, who took her out to have a good time so she wouldn’t get hung up about it. This scumbag who has given her nothing but pleasure since. He shuffles one more time between her legs, the warmth of his hard muscles rubbing her inner thighs, and then pauses with his cock almost touching her.

“Ready? It might be a little uncomfortable at first. Just give it a second, don’t go busting my balls immediately, okay?”

She nods, as ready as she’ll ever be. She wants to loop her arms around him and hold him close, but it’s not time for that. No, because Max knows damn well Billy wants to watch his dick push into her and split her open. Harsh exhale loud in the stillness of the room, Billy leans that much closer. The warmth and pressure of his head meets no resistance when it slides between her folds and then rubs up to her clit. It shocks her that he doesn’t go straight for the goal. Well that and attention to her clit after so long it delicious pleasure drizzled on her like honey. Max releases tension in her shoulders and neck she wasn’t aware of. Just short of melting into the bed, she relaxes under him and closes her eyes. He teases her a few more times like that, just rubbing them together.

When he stops, though, she tries not to tense up. His hand must still be around him to guide them together. Knees under him for leverage, Billy pushes forward against her velvet tightness. So long as she doesn’t tense up, her body should give to the pressure of him pushing into her. And she does at first. Pretty blues fly open wide at the spread of her. It’s tight. It hurts, although it’s a pain she’s felt before. If she’s too hasty or greedy while masturbating, isn’t wet enough when she shoves her fingers in. A flinch spears through her, a whimper galloping on its heels. And then Billy stops. He says nothing, doesn’t attempt to pull out. His right hand is dry and clean when it settles over her navel. It pets her up and down, not toying with her. Just petting her.

“Breathe, Max.”

Wincing, she grinds out, “Tight…”

He huffs a laugh and drawls, “You’re telling me. If I were your age, I woulda come just now, cuz holy fuck this is hot.”

She dares to crack open an eye. And sure enough, as he comforts her, he takes his fill of her, too. Devil eyes zero in on where they’re connected. He’s barely in her at all. If she lifts her head, she could probably see the rest of his shaft. Waiting its turn to be inside her. That’s a heady thought, gets her head swimming and stomach flopping.

“Keeping going,” she whispers.

He could give a deer in headlights a run for its money when his head shoots up, eyes wide.

“Yea?”

She nods, turns her head away from his stare. Gets her feet flat on the bed around his kneeling form and actually pushes back against him. He slips a tiny bit more into her, about to pop his head past that tight grip. It’s unlike anything she’s felt before—teetering on the edge and about to have him all the way in her. She senses it, the emptiness in front of him that knows his fingers well, wants to know this part of him well, too. How they’ll fit perfectly together. Max almost sobs from how much she wants the weight and pressure of him all the way in.

“Do it,” she pants with her eyes bright and a little wet on him. A wild shiver raises all the peach fuzz on her, but she doesn’t look away. “All the way, I can take it.”

Billy never needs to be told twice when it comes to her. To them. It’s all the permission he needs to lean forward on his knees and slide the rest of the way in her. Max jumps and whimpers when her body gives, no hope of it clinging to his skin with all the lube and her natural slick. Billy must like it, too, bottles a noise in his throat when he pops forward. It goes on forever, just thick firmness forcing her open and her body being unable to push him out. Teeth in her lip, feeling playful despite how fast her heart beats and how nervous she still is, Max tightens around him on purpose. Just to see what he’ll do. It stings right at her entrance, but it’s worth it to punch a loud moan out of him like that. Billy’s chest caves in as he pants, and he shoots her a withered look.

“You bitch,” he pants. “You want me to come right now?”

Max just rolls her amusement flat between her lips and shifts her hips on him. Fucking herself like she does on his fingers. They moan together, Billy’s eyes almost rolling back. His hands finally seek out her hips to hold her down. That grip may bruise depending on how long this lasts. Because Billy doesn’t know his strength sometimes, already pinches Max’s skin against the knobs of her hipbones. Max will have her chance when Billy comes down. He likes to kiss her—and she likes to be kissed—while fingering her. It stands to reason he’ll want to lick the moans right out of her when they start moving.

Which is now. Billy is slow and oddly gentle with her when he rolls his hips back and forth. Not what she’d expected, but she appreciates it at the moment. Because despite the attention and prep and lube, it’s still a tight fit. She’s physically smaller than him, body a vice around him to begin with. Max isn’t used to the stretch of something so big and thick inside her. Billy’s tongue and fingers have helped, they’re just a far cry compared to his dick. Each shift of him inside drags the weight of him along her walls. It feels good in a strange way, but nothing like Billy’s fingers or tongue. Huffing, Max thinks nothing of weaving a hand down and tucking little fingers to her clit, rubbing in a familiar way.

Her chest arches off the bed with a bitten back moan. Oh. Oh of course. It’s so much better with someone playing light games with her clit. She can’t rub too hard or she’ll come. That’s a different sort of pressure inside her along with Billy. Him moving winds her up, especially when he changes the angle, drags the head of his dick along her walls. The curve is just right, or maybe her body is finally relaxed enough to make it good. To make it amazing, to pool heat in her cheeks and unlock her teeth until long, loud moans pour out of her. And then Billy snaps his hips faster.

“That’s it,” he hisses, probably grinning above her. “Fuck yea, Max, just like that. Feels good now, doesn’t it?”

She whimpers with her lip in her teeth and nods, goes right on rubbing tight circles over her clit. The sting that had once plagued her with every thrust of him melts away, now. It’s better faster, gets her warmed back up and squirming again. She tries to move with him, hikes her legs around his hips and crosses her ankles above his ass. She has leverage, now, waits for him to thunder forward and then tightens her legs around him. Helping him to slam them together. His pelvis knocks hard between her legs and pops a whimper out of her. He isn’t silent above her, groans with his head thrown back. Watery eyes flutter open with all the peach fuzz on her standing up to watch his head flop back down, blue on blue.

“C’mere,” he pants, already bending down for her.

Both her arms slither around his neck as he smashes her into the bed. She clings whimpering and trembling to him as he grinds into her. His bulk keeps her down when he manages to rub himself on her clit, too. It’s a lot of sensation at once, and Max sinks her teeth into his shoulder. Billy’s next moan makes her throb around him. She did that. She made him feel that. Max pulls her teeth back to pant and cry into his skin only to bite him again. This time, he growls in her ear like the beast he is and fucks her all the harder. It’s awful, wet filth in her ears, but she can’t get enough, tightens her legs around him to encourage him faster, harder. When that’s not enough, Max pries her teeth out of him and turns towards his neck. He’s damp with sweat, and she licks the salt off him.

“Harder,” she moans. “Fuck me harder!”

Max gets her nails in his back when he complies.

He murmurs filth in her ear, encouraging, “Fuck you’re so tight, goddamn Max, gonna ruin you for anyone else, you’re mine, gonna make you come on my dick,” and all sorts of nonsense.

She shivers all the while and just tries to keep breathing while he crushes her. It’s not a problem when his hands grip her shoulders too and hold her down. He sits up, welcoming precious, cool air between them. Before Max gets out an order—for him to come back or kiss her or something—his hands drift to new positions. The right curls gently around the base of her throat. The lightest pressure, not cutting off even a wisp of her air. The left smooths over her flat belly, a little below her navel. He doesn’t stop fucking her, takes to rolling his hips and thrusting past her sweet spot every time. It sends her pretty blues fluttering. They roll back when his left hand presses down hard, pushing on her insides. When he fucks into her again, his cock rams into her right where she needs it. His hand pressing down makes it so much better, she doesn’t know why, but she doesn’t care as her mouth hangs open in a nearly endless moan.

Billy pants above her, “So good, fuck you look so good like this.” His chin drops into his chest as he stares down at them moving together. “Mmm you’re gonna come, I can feel it.” He leans more weight on his left hand, about to hurt her. It feels too good, glide of him going sort of molten between her legs. He chuckles, starts rocking the bed now, when he purrs, “That’s it, Max, just like that. Wanna feel this little pussy snap.”

Without a breath to form words, Max only has her hands. She flicks him off despite him barking in laughter at her. It’s the last thought she has before she wraps both of those little hands around his forearm. She just needs something to cling to while he thunders into her faster, jarring every soft inch of her with his thrusts. She probably makes quite the sight for him, blushing to her hairline and her little breasts bouncing. He’s right about her tightening up. About it building in her again. Another orgasm if she counts that little flutter from earlier—which she is, she’s counting it. Max goes slack under him and welcomes him that much deeper into her, the last dregs of her fear melting away to leave her pleasure exposed to him. For him to take and devour and do whatever he wants with it.

“Billy,” she whines against his hand on her throat. She pants and goes high, so embarrassing, when she cries, “Gonna come, oh fuck…”

Now his hand at her throat tightens. Just barely. Just his thick fingers squeezes her skin and her delicate windpipe from the sides. Max’s eyes fly open wide as her shoulders rise up. Like a spring, every piece of her winds tightly. About to break. Break from Billy’s hands on her, his devil eyes eating her up, wet cock unrelenting where it thunders into her. It’s his words and the rasps of his breath, his warm body between her thighs. So much, too much for her to resist the heavy pull inside her. Max bucks under his hands, eyes rolling back despite trying to watch him while she comes. She doesn’t hear his deep groan when she starts to clench around him in waves, definitely doesn’t hear him when she starts wailing in time with those waves. No attention to her clit. A first for her, and it’s a powerful first.

At some point, Billy slows down and stops entirely, buried to the hilt in her. Him moving in her while she’d come was maybe too intense. She drifts for a while, not sure of anything. At least she doesn’t cry like the first time, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Billy never ridicules her when they’re done. Her pleasure is part of his, so she feels no shame while humming and shaking under him. On him. Behind her fluttering lids, she knows he’s trying to control himself while watching her every twitch. Always watching her. When Max catches her breath and opens her eyes, he’s waiting above her just like she knew he would be.

“Not done with you yet,” he murmurs with his voice dragged through gravel. “Gonna make you come again, cuz I know you can.” His hands are on her belly, now, and pet her back and forth. Her shaking persists as he stares down at her, every bit the shadowy thing that’d wanted to drag her into the depths with it. Her desire stares her full in the face and promises her nothing but wickedness. “Can’t wait to come in you, just like I promised.”

Max trembles that much harder when he reaches for her face. The curl of his knuckles is almost cold on the heat of her cheek. She leans into it anyway, whimpers against his fingers.

“I-I can’t come again,” she pleads. “Billy I can’t…”

He’s already pulling out of her, though. Still hard, smacking into his belly shiny with lube and her. It looks painful, how dark his head is. She only gets a glance, though. Billy’s hands slip down to move her, spinning the world around her with his strength. At one second, she is a puddle on her back. The next, Billy flips her over into his spot and then yanks her onto her knees. With her head turned to the side to breath, cheek fat in the bed, her ass sways in the air. Max’s stomach drops out, humiliation quick to take the place of her afterglow. She wiggles, struggles despite her rubbery legs. Billy grabs her by the ass and is a warm, firm wall behind her. Rutting his cock between her legs.

Eyeing him over her shoulder and her messy hair, Max growls, “Billy…”

“You’ll like it,” he purrs right back, slick grin on his face. “Promise.”

“It’s degrading.”

“You’ll like it,” he insists. He yanks her back on her knees like he’s already fucking her. “It’s totally different like this, you’ll see. Make sure you scream real loud for me. I wanna hear you.”

She opens her mouth to tell him off. Because she’s not a damn dog despite him calling her a bitch, and she doesn’t exactly want to be fucked face down like one. But he’s a beast, holds her open with a hand again while aiming his cock down to shove back into her. It hurts until she bows her back, fixing the angle so he slides in. It’s not great with her face on fire, lips snarling, the rush of her orgasm gone thanks to him humiliating her like this. He draws back just as she opens her mouth to end this. When he slams forward, the whole of his length rubs her in all the right ways. Before, he’d managed to rub across her sweet spot every time. Now? His fat head nails her dead on. Again and again with each wet slap of his hips bouncing her on her knees.

Max’s mouth hangs open all over again as she wails. Hates that he’s right, but she whimpers and cries for him all the same. She tries to curl a hand over her mouth, if only to salvage a scrap of her pride. Billy tsks behind her, rears a hand back, and slaps her ass. That does something to her, and Max lets out a genuine scream. Not of terror or pain, Jesus no, but one that accompanies her clenching around him. A warning. He must enjoy it, because he hunches over her to snap his hips harder, their bodies louder together as he fucks down instead. When Max’s legs tremble and threaten to give out, his hands are right there to scoop her hips up and keep her ass high for him. All the while, she can’t shut up, can’t even breathe without her voice coming through every pant. High and desperate, so unlike herself, but she can’t control it. Worst of all? With every thrust that bottoms out in her, Billy fucks her that much closer to coming. Again.

Max shakes her head as best she can while moaning, “No, no, I can’t,” and then devolves into drawn-out vowels and whimpers.

Hunched behind her like an animal and grunting, Billy stays the course. His hips stutter and his breaths catch in his throat. He’s close, too, finally after what seems like hours. Maybe it’s the weed. Max recalls, now, her girlfriends in San Diego complaining about their boyfriends fucking them while high. Either not able to get it up or taking forever. Will Billy keep her here and keep making her come until he does? It’s a wonderful, terrifying idea, and Max tightens up around him again while trembling. His panting roars in her ear, growls coming through. He is a beast on top of her and uses the coiled power in his thick arms to keep her ass up. To balance her while he drives into her and shakes his left hand free. Body jarring on the bed, Max has a second to wonder what he’s doing when rough fingertips gather up slick from her folds and rub hard into her clit.

She screams, “No, no! No more, no!” But he doesn’t stop, swipes his fingers faster across her clit. “Billy, oh god, right there, right there!”

“Right here?” He pants hot and ragged into her ear.

A squeal from her as she tightens up, getting ready to break, and Max cries, “Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck!”

Unlike last time, Billy doesn’t slow down when she comes. He finds a rhythm with the pulses around him or maybe her screams. Something. He rams himself into her at the height of those peaks over and over. Billy’s right hand letting go long enough to slap her ass again knocks the breath out of her. Somehow through Billy pounding into her and the swelling waves of her orgasm, she manages to keep her eyes cracked open. To watch Billy from under a strand of her hair that falls in her face. His face is blissful with a toothy grin like he can’t get enough of her screaming his name. She whimpers it even now as he pistons harder into her, seeking his pleasure in her. It’s only when he stops with one more pop of his hips, little jerks occasionally, that she thinks about a condom. Oh well.

Billy pants and moans when he can catch his breath as he comes in her. The little twitches of his hips grinds him deeper into her. She can’t feel it. Still, she shudders hard at the thought of him doing it. Filling her up just like he’d promised. And he loves every second of it, breathing so hard in her ear. He stays there as long as his trembling allows. As long as her body allows, because he’s already getting soft. He startles behind her, and his hands need some convincing to peel off her hips. Those rough palms seek the globes of her ass as he pulls out. He slips out with a slick drag. The shock of him gone and leaving her empty makes her jump. But his hands are ready to catch that jump and to bend her up so he can watch.

Flaming hot like before, Max turns her face to hide in the bed. Wishing for a pillow instead, but Billy’s probably has a wet spot in it now from it being stuck under her. She’s about to make another. Max knows what he wants to see. His whispered words have mentioned it so many times. Already she knows it’s about to drip out of her. It’s what he wants, so trembling on her knees like she wants to collapse, Max relaxes. Her shoulders crowd her ears when his come slips out, running down her labia and dripping. Billy only watches for a split second after it wells out of her before he’s on her. Thick fingers pet hard over her shy clit, making her clench and squirm to give him more. He gathers it all up and holds her still while fucking his come back into her. Deep enough to drag his cruel fingers over her battered sweet spot. Again and again even as she wiggles to get away. Thumb slipping around to flick back and forth over her clit, Max claws at the pillow under her.

“No, no, Billy fuck, no more!”

“Come on, little red, just one more, come for me one more time.”

“Billy!”

Actual tears squeeze out of her eyes. She’s burning at her clit and aching so terribly inside. It all coalesces into her jerking her hips between the points of him. It’s awkward with her ass up like this, but she grinds on him as best she can. Billy’s right hand rearing back to smack her ass helps all the more. More smacks jar her on her knees and drive Billy’s fingers harder into her. Max’s shrill scream is so delayed when she throbs around him again. His thumb strokes over numb nerves at this point as he curls his fingers straight into the center of her desire. Leaves them there as she jolts in the aftermath. All with her voice destroyed and her hips bucking hard like his when he came. The cool air that hits her when Billy takes his hand away is almost cruel. But Max’s legs give out seconds later, so it’s not a sensation she knows for long.

Billy is a blanket over her, not springing immediately away to clean them up. He doesn’t lie down on top of her but keeps himself swept low. Even under his bulk those thick arms don’t shake. Max sees him out the corner of her eye. Tremors run through her occasionally. Not cold, just uncontrollable. Every shift of her thighs is sweet agony. Thoroughly wrung out, the aftershocks between her legs almost hurt, now. Billy is finally done with her. Although that doesn’t mean he moves away. No, as their breaths calm, he kisses a path across her upper back. When she gives a weak wiggle under him, he presses smiles into those kisses. It’s not until he’s kissed a path up to the freckles on her shoulders does he open his eyes and meet hers.

“Gonna clean you up in a second.”

“You better,” she whines.

Billy’s lips pause near the nape of her neck.

“If I hurt you, you should have said something.”

“I’m not hurt.” Yet her shoulders scrunch up as she shakes harder. “Just don’t leave yet.”

Besides the initial sting when they’d started, he didn’t hurt her. Not like she thought he would. Like she was warned—it hurts the first time. It was nothing but pleasure after she grew used to it, and Max is thankful for that. She just needs him close right now. Doesn’t understand it. Is disgusted with herself for it. But for all her bark and bite, she just needs him to stay for a little while longer. If he leaves, she’ll be worse off, freak out like the first time but more. So when Billy boxes her in with his knees and elbows, grazes their skin together again, she finally relaxes again. Thinks she can breathe again. She tries to multitask and tries to maybe not cry, too.

“Hey,” murmurs warm in her ear. “What are you thinking about?”

She lets out a shaky breath and confesses, “Not crying in front of you again.”

He nuzzles her ear next.

“I asked a lot of you. That third one was a doozy.”

It’s four. If he’s talking about orgasms, that was number four. Maybe he hadn’t picked up on that first one. Maybe she was wrong? Could explain his greediness. If three somehow isn’t as greedy as four. Max just shudders and goes to flip herself around. It’s mostly Max trying to claw her body onto her side while staying in the cage of Billy’s limbs. She sort of crawls onto her left side and then slumps onto her back so that they’re facing each other. Dirty blond curls are mostly dry and follow gravity down. They’re not long enough to fall like a curtain like her hair currently twisted and tangled. Oh well. Nothing a comb can’t fix. Later. Much later. 

Swallowing hard, terrified of the answer but needing to know, Max asks so small, “Did I bleed?”

She doesn’t meet Billy’s eyes when they fly open wide, staring at her.

“Why the hell would you ask me that? Of course not!” He grimaces for a second, and then the expression breaks back into surprise. “Fuck, that’s right, you’re a virgin. Or well you were, took care of that for you. Some of you chicks take the phrase ‘pop your cherry’ way too literally.” His chuckles are quiet huffs through his nose. “No, Max, there’s no blood. I’m an asshole, but I’m not gonna fuck a girl so hard I tear her. Not really into blood, so whenever you’re on the rag—”

“Can’t believe how gross you are,” she grumbles. She doesn’t need to hear the rest of that. Embarrassment over her ignorance colors her so pretty and pink. “Get down here and kiss me.”

“Jesus, you are bossy when you’re feeling needy,” he says with a grin. He comes down all the same, murmurs, “Acting like you don’t like being nasty with me.”

She huffs and grunt into their kiss, is quick to nip his tongue when Billy tries to slip it to her. From the depths of her, Max draws enough will into her arms to lift up and thread her fingers into his hair. She yanks him even closer and is the one to lick her way into his mouth. He allows the intrusion, even lingers near her lips when Max ends the kiss. Like he doesn’t want to stop. Which he probably doesn’t, horny prick. 

“Can’t believe you made me come so much.”

Billy snorts in her face.

“Is that a complaint I’m hearing? Really?”

She turns her head away from him, grumbles, “The last one was a lot, you jerk.”

“Awww, poor little red and her poor little pussy.”

Scowling up at his mocking pout, Max hisses, “I hate you.”

“Mmm, no you don’t.”

“Maybe I do.”

Billy breathes softly on her cheek and then mouths a kiss to the corner of her lips. 

“I know for a fact you don’t hate me. The opposite, actually.”

Now she turns back to face him, face pinches when she spits, “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, just your little crush on me that’s painfully obvious.” He pauses to watch the devastated surprise widen her eyes and make her look exactly her age, so soft and young. “You wanna talk about it or? I think it’s cute, by the way.”

He doesn’t say that with an overbearing grin or even a wink. Just a knowing smirk. Because he’s known all along. Because Max is transparent as all hell. 

Desperate to save some face, Max tries, “I wouldn’t call it a crush, I just have eyes is all. You’re a scumbag, but you’re also hot.”

“Max, come on,” he drawls, still warm, not teasing. Just friendly, which is almost just as dangerous. “I’ve known for a while you have a crush on me. Don’t act like we haven’t been eye fucking since before we even introduced ourselves. I’ll admit to starting it, and you gave me that look right back. I have eyes, too.”

Meaning her lack of subtlety, not so much him having eyes for her. Although maybe he means both. Because yea, they have been eye fucking since the beginning. If that’s what Billy calls them staring with hungry eyes and visually undressing each other. Still. The idea that she likes Billy is embarrassing on its own. The fact that he sees it? Means she’s been lying to herself whenever she pondered the nature of her… sharp affection for Billy. They are not sweet looks and holding hands. They are snappy comebacks and word play. When he calls her a bitch and she calls him an asshole right back, they smirk at each other. Playful like wolves. It’s not what she would call a crush.

“I don’t have a crush on you,” she insists. “Whatever this is, it’s not a crush.”

“Mmm okay,” he hums, soft smirk turning smug now. Because he believes she’s given up, meaning he wins. “So we gonna climb back in the shower and scrub you down again? I promise not to finger you too hard while cleaning you out.”

He bends down for a kiss, but her hand zooms between them to mush him away. He laughs into her palm, licks it for her troubles.

“Who said anything about you joining? And stop being gross!”

Billy sweeps her up in his arms and licks hot and filthy up the side of her neck. Mindless of her sweat. Mindless of her wiggling and squealing.

Despite that, she only cranes her head away and laughs, “Ew, Billy! Knock it off!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =3c Hallo. Thanks for dropping by. Below is a summary of the stories I have on backlog waiting to be published for y'all! To give you an idea of what I'm sitting on. I like to keep like two or three "buffer fics" at all time. What do I mean by "buffer fic?" I mean having two or three stories completed while I'm publishing another one. So I don't run out of content to post. I haven't written another multi-chaptered fic like "Pickle Juice" yet u~u I don't have the stamina for it currently, don't know if I will again. I've tried to start two plot fics but immediately lost interest in them sigh. But anyway~
> 
> "Show and Tell" is set post-season two, no Upside Down. Zootopia fusion (they're furries). Max is a bunny who has to write a report in one of her classes about predators "going savage" like in the film. She uses Billy (a lion) as her subject. Things get frisky.  
> "Whispers in the Dark" is another creature fic. Total AU. Billy is a shadow creature (entirely unrelated to the Mind Flayer) who attached himself to Max when she was a child. She's all grown up now and they fuck _a lot_. So enjoy tentacles and extremely possessive Billy lol.  
> "Bros" is a human AU. Billy and Max have grown up next door to each other their whole lives. Best friends forever (their four-year age difference is intact here). Max worries as Billy is about to graduate from high school in two weeks that they'll start seeing each other less and they'll stop being friends. So they play hooky and spend the day together. And have the most vanilla sex I've written for this pairing.  
> "Fruit Vert" is a human AU. It's the Hargrove family reunion, Neil dragging Susan and Max to it. Max has the hots for her step-uncle Billy (Neil's younger brother) and they leave the reunion to go fuck (she's 14 he's... older lol. It's me y'all). Only to find out =3c that they've gotten themselves into a pickle. That eventually ends up with them running away together when she's 18.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats, sailors, you made it to another Monday. Today's update is =3c important. As you'll see. Get fuckin' ready, y'all. The domestic violence tag is in FULL effect for this chapter. I can't believe this adventure is almost over. Gonna miss posting for y'all every week.
> 
> Song for this chapter: [Do It, Try It by M83](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skE5CNiRnhg) Listen to the sound~ Of a broken heart.
> 
> If you haven't read it yet, or skipped it because of the furry tag, maybe consider giving the new one-shot "Show and Tell" a [chance?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25055773) The reviews are in, and the fic is JUST as hot as I promised! ;DDD Y'all know I'm good for it. If you don't believe me, give the comments section a glance! Don't just take my word for it

They don’t talk about Max’s ‘crush’ or whatever. Or at least Billy doesn’t press it. Max is the one who doesn’t want to talk about it. Too embarrassed that he sees right through her. The rest of Saturday is lazy, mostly because Max cannot be convinced to move much after they pile out of the shower. Again. They crash on the couch and end up falling asleep there, Billy picking her up and carrying her to bed. She startles awake sometime in the middle of the night, but he is warm behind her with his arm heavy and secure around her waist. So she falls right back asleep.

Sunday is a day for choring. She’s used to not seeing Billy much, actually returns to Neil’s trailer to make an appearance. Mostly because Neil is usually gone most of the day. Also choring. It works out since she’d rather not cross paths with him. She has seen him a few times since the incident. He regards her the same now as he did before: mild annoyance, ignoring her. Like it didn’t happen. And maybe to him it didn’t. He was extremely drunk—his breath being one of the things to clue her in that it wasn’t a dream. He would probably deny it if she accused him, her truth amounting to nothing. When Max stumbles in through the front door, keen on doing some laundry and cleaning up her room, Mom is in the kitchen. Reminding Max of their situation. Stuck here with Neil, no escape.

Mom has a black eye. Or rather she does under the make-up she’s applied to cover it. Max stops short, her socked feet catching on the carpet in the hallway. Her sneakers are barely off, and all she wants to do is shove them back on, find Neil, and kick him until he’s a broken pile on the floor. Billy would be proud. Mom looks at her like she’s made of glass and glued back together. Max doesn’t return her fragile smile, too scared she’ll see all the cracks in her mother. The Mayfield women know how to pick them. At least Dad never hit Mom. Grabbed her and shook her a few times, screamed in her face when they reached the height of their argument. But never hit her. Max wants to be sick.

“Well hey there, stranger,” Mom says softly, shutting the water off in the sink. Doing dishes most likely. “You going back out soon?”

“I was gonna do some laundry, clean up. Why?”

Now Max’s eyes flick up to meet Mom’s. Mom isn’t the snooping type. Protective, fiercely so, but not nosy. They have a certain level of trust between them. Max has been skating since she was ten or eleven, rolled away whenever she wanted. No amount of lecturing or taking her skateboard away really stopped her. That was a point of contention in their marriage. Mom letting her have free range and Dad wanting Max to stay closer to home. Worried about what she’d get up to. Worried about boys chasing her. Like Max is defenseless. So Max remembers all the times Mom defended her freedom and let her leash stay long. She tries to give her mom a real smile. Mom deserves more than that.

“Well…” Mom shuffles to the edge of the kitchen counter. She stands in the break between the kitchen and the living room, lip in her teeth as she mulls something over. “I was hoping maybe we could do something. Just the two of us.”

It breaks Max’s heart. They used to make a girls day out of a Saturday or Sunday every so often. Max isn’t big on clothes or shopping. They don’t have much to connect on. But taking Max to a mall near the house in San Diego had been a treat for them. They would get lunch and walk around together. Maybe an awkward mother-daughter bond, but Max loves her mom. And watching Mom tiptoe around the heaviness in this trailer, trying to grasp a semblance of their normal life plucks a cord in her heart. She uses Billy as an escape from this. Not that she doesn’t… like him in a way, because she does. But Billy is her escape. Mom doesn’t have that. It’s just her and Neil in this trailer without a buffer.

“Y-yea, yea let’s do something,” Max says with a tiny smile. It covers up the way her eyes sting, at least. “There isn’t a lot to do around here but…”

Mom perks right up, looking like Max has promised her the world. 

“We could drive up to Indio. Neil and I ran up there a few times, and I think I saw an arcade. We could go.”

Just because she and Billy had been there literally yesterday doesn’t lessen Max’s excitement. Anything to get out of this dust bowl. Anything to get to some AC that actually keeps her cool.

“Can I drive us to the highway? Please? I need to practice.”

Max leaning fully into their outing just brightens Mom’s face more. Maybe too much, because she winces as her smile irritates her eye. Max’s happy grin wants to slide off and shatter into pieces, but she forces it to stay in place. If Mom isn’t talking about it, then Max can’t mention it. They can’t talk about it. What’s there to be done? It’s not like they can leave. Or Mom won’t, which hurts more to think about. So Max just dips back into her room, shoves jeans and a t-shirt on for the chill of the dark arcade, and re-emerges to join Mom at the front door, purse on her arm and keys held out.

“Remember to look behind us before you back out. Even though there’s no one around.”

“I know, Mom, jeez,” she huffs while accepting the keys dropped into her hand. “I’m probably ready to get my license by now.”

They pull over and switch when State Route 86 gets in their sights. Not that Max doesn’t want to keep driving. Mom is the one who worries about her driving at highway speeds. With a roll of her eyes, though, Max relents, doesn’t want to argue with her. Not when they’re trying to have a moment of peace. Music from the radio fills most of the drive north to Indio. Max isn’t good at pointless small talk, and neither is Mom. It works out, because Billy is shit at it, too, so she had lots of practice on this 45-minute drive of letting her thoughts wander like the sprawl of the desert. 

She thinks about Billy. Mostly. It annoys her that she thinks about him so much. Because he’s still just a guy no matter the things they’ve done. And even if she has a crush on him—or what amounts to a crush between them—it doesn’t matter. Max won’t be staying for long. Plus, it’s not like Billy feels the same way. He’s just… having fun. Passing the time. It hurts to think that. Like someone stands on her chest. Even rolling her shoulders doesn’t dispel it. Why she wants Billy to be invested and interested in her beyond the physical confuses her. What does she care? She’s not going to stick around anyway. The moment she works something out between her parents to get back to San Diego and her room in the house she grew up in? She’ll be gone. And Billy will be a summer memory.

“Maxine?”

Max startles where she leans against the inside of the door. The Buick rides completely different from the Camaro. The tires and cushy suspension of the Buick makes the old pavement of 86 smooth. Whereas the Camaro tends to shake them a little. Plus Billy usually has the radio cranked as high as it will go, sometimes smokes with the window barely cracked. Often drives with his right hand on her when he’s not smoking. Of course Mom doesn’t compare, body barely filling the space between the steering wheel and the driver’s seat. She glances at Max with watery, green eyes and a smile under them. Not watery like she’s going to cry. Her mom’s eyes just always look wet.

“Yea? Sorry, what’d you say?”

Mom rolls her lips flat into a line and then faces the road. The miles until Indio keep shrinking with each sign they pass. They’re halfway there. Max recognizes this stretch of highway, the mountains to the west. They look different depending on what part of the route they’re on.

“I… I was just saying that I’ve spoken with your father recently. About you.”

Max keeps her face cool despite the way her stomach flips. Her parents talking about her usually isn’t good. Them arguing over her and their clashing parenting styles.

“Yea? What about me?”

Mom takes a deep breath. Steeling herself. Her hands at 10 and 2 are tight with her thin, bird-like bones prominent in the back of her palms.

“We know you miss your friends in San Diego and your school, changing during your sophomore year can’t be fun. And I know the decision after the divorce would be that you would live with me and maybe start visiting your father on the weekends once you get your license and we find you a car. But… Well, I had a long conversation with him on the phone Friday and…”

Mom’s jaw is so tense the tendons in her neck stand out. Not anger. No, because her shoulders don’t hunch up and her face remains pale and clear. She sucks another deep breath through her nose, and Max’s throat tightens at the sound of it. Her mom is trying not to cry.

“We thought that… maybe you could go visit him for a few weeks before school starts in September. And that maybe we could… we could move you back to San Diego. If you want to stay with him.”

“Mom…”

Mom flicks a hand up to her eyes, curled index finger dragging under the eye without a bruise. The other covered in concealer is a lost cause until a tear spills past the uneven color. If she paws at herself, she’ll smear the make-up.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I know you’re miserable here, and-and I didn’t mean to isolate you here with me. I just didn’t want to leave you with your father, he can be…” She beats her palm against the steering wheel, frowning hard through the tremor in her jaw. “He can be so suffocating, and I’m sorry for that.”

Max is twisted in the seat, hammering heart trapped under the seatbelt. She wants to cry, too. For her mother, for the broken love between her parents… For herself, about to realize her greatest hope without having to lift a hand or cause a scene. When push comes to shove, Max knows her mom would have let her move back to Dad’s. 

Mom glances at her again, chin just as weak, and admits, “Although I guess your father is… better than this.”

“Mom,” she croaks. “You didn’t-you didn’t know. I don’t blame you, you didn’t know Neil would be a bastard like this.”

Maybe they should pull over. Mom is sniffling now and has to constantly wipe tears off her cheeks. 

Softly, like she’s afraid to bring such a fate upon them, Mom says, “I could never forgive myself if he hurt you, Maxine.”

Oh. Well, it’s a little late for that. Not that Neil raping her is Mom’s fault. Of course if Max pulls back from her personal feelings on the matter and views it from on high? In the grand scheme of things? They wouldn’t be here if Mom hadn’t married Neil. And buckled like a belt when he insisted they move here with him. Maybe out of pride so she could prove to Dad that they’re better off without him. That they don’t need him. So Mom had picked them up and dropped them here. Rather than combining households in a new place or Neil transplanting to San Diego. Something. Max refuses to blame her mother. She practically hears Billy snap that it’s no one’s fault but Neil’s. It comforts her to know Billy would be annoyed with that thought even occurring to her. It’s Neil’s fault. No one else’s.

Max just nods rather than admitting the truth, asks, “You and Dad really talked it out? Like you weren’t screaming at each other?”

“For once no.” Mom gives a waggle of her head and sort of smiles. An inside joke between them. As much as verbal abuse can be a joke. “It was a rather calm conversation. I was… emotional after we hung up, knowing that once you’re there you’ll want to stay, and I know I can’t force you to stay here, Maxine, I know you hate it here. I just hope you… I just hope you don’t hate me for bringing you here.”

Max tries for a laugh to dislodge the frog in her throat, jokes, “Come on, Mom, don’t say that. I could never hate you, and like I said, you didn’t do this on purpose. You didn’t know.”

Mom accepts that on some level, nods while wringing her hands around the steering wheel. They’re almost to Indio, now. Max cannot wait to dive into the bathroom at the arcade or wherever they end up and just… breathe for a second. Away from her mom, away from prying eyes. She’s not much of a crier, but she wants to right now. Again, for her mom and the loss of innocence and happiness over all this. Someone should cry. Max almost wishes Billy were here. Because he would prod her into sucking it up and just accept the gift that’s being handed to her. Even though once Max leaves she knows she’ll never come back. Billy doesn’t care about her like that, though. Billy… doesn’t really care about anything. He’s just a man.

It’s a sobering thought, and it helps steady her voice when Max asks, “So when can I go see Dad?”

It takes Mom a second to collect herself. Because she knows Max won’t come back. Not once she gathers up her room and moves everything back to San Diego. They feel the taut thread between them about to snap. Not that Max doesn’t love her mother. She just can’t stay here. She’ll die here. Maybe not her physical body, but her soul and happiness will die here. There’s nothing here for her.

“I can… I can drive you back this week. I don’t want you on one of those Greyhounds all the way back to San Diego.”

“It’s fine, Mom, it’s not a big deal. I don’t wanna take you away from your job or get into a fight with Neil about it. We can probably check out times and tickets while we’re in Indio. There’s probably a Greyhound station here.”

She knows for a fact there is, because she’s seen it. Billy drove them past it when they left the skatepark a week ago. Hard to believe it was only a week ago that they took the final step together and jumped into… whatever this is between them. They’re having sex with plenty of regularity, even if yesterday was the first time ‘going all the way’ or whatever. Even this morning Max woke up to Billy’s hands all over her, the prick of his moustache as he bit and kissed his way between her legs. She finally startled awake with his viper tongue painting messy licks to her clit, pushing two and then three fingers into her. When she shifts, the hollowness is there. She’ll see him tonight when they both get home. How to tell him about all this though…

Walking around a mall and a department store, lunch at a diner, and then an hour at the arcade give her plenty of time to think up something. But she doesn’t. Max pushes away everything ‘Billy’ in her mind and focuses on Mom. On having a good time with her. Because about halfway through their meal? Max realizes what this is. It’s Mom saying goodbye. They’re having one more girl trip as a way to bond one last time before Max goes back to San Diego. Because Mom is right, Max will absolutely pack up and move back into her room in the house. It would take a lot of convincing for her to visit, too. Billy not included in the equation. So she doesn’t think about him while metaphorically saying goodbye to her mother. While also accepting whatever apology Mom sneaks into all this. 

When they pile back into the Buick, much happier than when they’d climbed out, Max asks, “Hey when we get off the highway again, can I drive us back to the trailer park? I didn’t mess up or go too fast when you let me drive earlier.”

She fires off a grin as she says that. Because they know Max has a bit of a lead foot. Always in a hurry to go and get somewhere. She’ll slow down when she’s dead. Plus she’s never going to learn how to drive if her mom coddles her. Mom agrees after a while, always does. She buckles easily, always has. Max is just particularly good at making her buckle. It’s the only reason why she wasn’t more worried about convincing someone to let her move back to San Diego with Dad. Phone calls earlier in the summer already told her Dad wanted that, too. So with both of them on board and Mom’s resilience almost nonexistent, Max knew it was a sure thing. Just a matter of time. She’s looking forward to visiting Dad—Greyhound ticket purchased for Friday, to return a week before school starts so she can move her things back. Not so excited that an ambulance speeding northbound doesn’t catch her attention. And the blue Camaro hot on its heels.

Max whips around, ignoring the seat belt digging into her chest and says aloud, “Billy?”

It could be a coincidence. Billy’s Camaro isn’t the only blue Camaro in existence. Still, she can’t shake the feeling that Billy has just driven by them, headed for one of the only hospitals around. Behind an ambulance with its sirens and lights on. 

Jerking her head towards her mother, Max pleads, “Mom, turn around, we have to go back.”

Mom spares her a glance. 

“Honey why?”

“That ambulance that just drove by, the guy who lives next door was behind it. Something’s wrong, please just turn around.”

Max aims her big eyes at her mom, always weak to a pleasing look from her. Mom frowns at her, confused more than anything, but doesn’t push back. She slows and turns left at a U-turn point in the middle of the highway. There are signs warning it’s for emergency use only, but Max considers this an emergency. There’s only one reason Max can think of why Billy would be following an ambulance. Something must have happened to his grandpa. Max thinks about the old man alone in that back bedroom while Billy is out doing errands. Maybe he’s okay. Maybe he’d just fallen or something. Mom spins them around and trails in the wake of the ambulance and Camaro all the way back to the hospital in Indio. There must be a thousand hospitals with JFK’s name on them. This one in Indio is no different.

The car barely stops, not even in park yet, when Max throws the door open. She leaves Mom’s voice yelling her name in the dust as she takes off. The Camaro is parked a few rows over. Max spies the mop of Billy’s hair as he leans his ass on the hood. His elbows are in his thighs so he can hold his head in his hands. He doesn’t pay any attention to the heat beaming down on him or rising up from the parking lot. Max slows her jog to a gentle stop, making sure to scuff her sneakers on the asphalt so she doesn’t scare Billy. She’s close enough to watch and hear his heaving sigh before he sits up. Sees her. Startles anyway like he doesn’t think she’s real.

“Max? What the hell are you doing here?”

His voice is rough, but he powers through it. No evidence of tears. He just looks tired. Face drawn and hair flatter than she’s ever seen it. Like he’s been running a hand through it and pulling on the curls.

“I… I was hanging out with my mom. We were on our way back when I saw the ambulance and you following it, are… are you okay?”

It’s the closest she can get to comfort. She takes a step closer, mindful of her mother probably walking up behind her. Billy sighs again and leans his weight back to dig cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket. He’s in the clothes he’d left in: medium wash jeans and a white wifebeater. Shoulders and arms on display, soaking up the sun. Who knows if he finished his errands. What he came back to, since clearly he’s okay. 

“Is… is it your grandpa?”

He blinks at her, their heads nearly level with him leaning like this. Pinching his cigarette by the filter, Billy lets the scorching breeze carry his exhale away.

“He’s dead.”

“Maxine!”

Their heads turn as one to Mom speedwalking up. Flustered and pink in the face from the heat, she sweeps an errant wisp of hair off her forehead. When she spies Billy, though, her expression softens. She glances between them and joins their little cluster, although she shuffles a little to avoid the cloud of Billy’s cigarette smoke.

Glancing between them with her soft smile persisting, Mom asks, “Oh, you two already know each other?” Then she shuffles a step closer to Billy and offers her hand to shake. “I’m sorry that I never got a chance to introduce myself when we moved in with your father. I only wish we could have seen you at the wedding but.” Her smile brightens despite Billy’s stern resting face. “I’m Susan, Maxine’s mother.”

Billy isn’t even looking at Mom or her outstretched hand. Cigarette on his lip, he’s all eyes on Max through the curl of white smoke. The longer Billy does nothing, says nothing, the lower Mom’s hand drifts. The growl of a truck parking nearby breaks Billy’s focus on Max. He flicks his cigarette away and rocks himself off the Camaro. He glances to her one more time, lips rolled flat and resigned, and then he turns away. Neil is here, rounding the trunk of the Camaro and bright red in his face. Breathing hard.

Wait, father?

“Why are you standing out here? Why aren’t you inside with your grandfather?” Neil snaps, standing almost toe-to-toe with Billy. Neil is taller, although only just. Billy lifts his chin to maintain eye contact even when a thick finger pokes him in the chest. “I read your note when I got home, now tell me son, how do you screw up taking care of an old man?”

“He’s dead,” Billy says again. Neutral. Carefully blank. “I came in with groceries and he was dead on the bedroom floor.”

Neil immediately jumps down Billy’s throat with both hands tangled in the front of his shirt, screaming, “You were supposed to be taking care of him!”

“I was! I don’t know what happened, Dad, he was just dead. I found him like that.”

Max expects Billy to snap back. To at least slap Neil’s hand off him, maybe throw a punch. Billy just grits his teeth and stares Neil down.

“I was at the grocery store, okay? I do it every week on Sunday, how was I supposed to—”

Neil shakes him, spits, “Stop lying! Where were you?”

“Dad, I’m not lying! I have the receipt in my pocket!”

Mom steps closer to her, tries to pull her out of the way as the men struggle with one another. She senses perhaps better than anyone where this is going. Neil’s voice rising, the color in his face bleeding into his neck and ears. About to overflow. It’s about to kick off. Billy goes to slide a hand in his back pocket, probably for aforementioned receipt, but Neil doesn’t let him get that far. They are shoes scuffling, grunts, and fists flying in a matter of seconds. Well, Neil’s fists, because Billy doesn’t fight back.

Max stands there, iced over in her shock, long enough to watch Billy take two swings to the face, momentum twirling him around. He stumbles against the car parked next to him, rocking it hard enough to make the shocks squeak. Neil doesn’t let up. Breathing hard like a steam engine, he snatches Billy up by the back of his shirt and throws Billy towards the Camaro. He lands almost against the front tire, on his tailbone, and has to slap both hands out to catch himself. Billy’s head sways on his shoulders like he can’t tell which way is which, stares at the blood he wipes off his lips like he doesn’t understand. Not even a full week has passed since he broke his nose at work. If Neil gets his way, Billy won’t be staggering away from this with just a broken nose. So despite the horror curdling her stomach—father, son, dad—Max tears herself out of her mother’s tight embrace and shoves her hands into Neil’s side, knocking off balance. Sending him a few, stumbling steps away from Billy.

“Leave him alone, you piece of shit!”

It’s out of her mouth before she realizes what she’s said. Three pairs of eyes stare at her with varying amounts of shock. Biggest of all are Billy’s despite how dazed he looks. Neil is the quickest to recover, adjusting the crosshairs of his fury onto her. 

He takes a step towards her.

“What did you just say to me, young lady?”

Betraying herself, Max’s panicked eyes flash towards Billy and then back on Neil. Her shoulders hunch and her fists clench, but she does not back down.

“I said leave him alone! He didn’t do anything wrong.”

At least not in the case of his grandpa’s passing. The bombshell only Billy and Max know about is all sorts of wrong. Her panic staring down Neil’s fury steaming out of his ears prevents her from combing over the details. That Billy is Neil’s son. Technically her step-brother. Whom she has been thirsting over for months. And then very much fucking for about a week now. She can’t even begin to parse that with the thundercloud over Neil’s brow. His fists clench at his sides. Like he’ll take a swing at her. Will he? Max almost wants him to. Just so that way Mom will see and leave him. She’ll leave him if Neil hurts her. So Max juts her little chin out and glares at him.

“And-and where were you, huh?” She bites out. “He was your dad. Why weren’t you the one taking care of him? Gotta have your son do it?” Her little teeth are white and vicious when she bares them at Neil. “Some man you are. At least Billy cared, he did a better job than you ever could!”

If it were possible, all the hair on Max would stand up when Neil actually shakes the tension out of his right hand, flattens it, and rears it back. Probably to pop her right in the mouth. Max doesn’t put up a defense, just flinches, ready for it. With her eyes closed, she waits for it. When it doesn’t come, she opens her eyes.

Neil and Billy glare at each other with Billy’s hand as a vice around his dad’s wrist. Stopping him from hitting Max.

“Let. Go.”

And Billy actually does flinch. He glances to Max with blood on his lips and stuck in his moustache. But he doesn’t let go.

“Not a chance, old man. Not gonna let you beat on a little girl.”

Someone has to pay the toll. So Billy’s face and stomach do when Neil wheels his left fist around and bops Billy in the temple. That’s enough to convince Billy to drop Neil’s wrist and sort of crumple on his feet. Neil’s right hook into Billy’s stomach sends him slumping into the Camaro, spilled out over the hood and windscreen. Through her own flash of anger and panic, Max screams as she charges into Neil’s side again, only this time with her shoulder. She is nothing compared to the bulk of them. The element of surprise is on her side, though, and she jars Neil into stumbling and windmilling to keep his balance.

While the raging lunatic is busy tripping over himself, Max grabs one of Billy’s hands and tugs him to his feet. And then a step away. And then she runs with him trailing behind her. Stumbling, but not trying to break free. Max doesn’t stop when Mom yells after her or even when Neil barks at them. The skatepark Billy had taken them to two weekends ago is just up the street. She remembers having to drive past the hospital to get to it, Billy teasing that help wasn’t far away if she hurt herself again. Maybe some skaters are there. Maybe someone will help them.

The first group of teenagers her size that see her instantly gather around them. Nobody knows them. Max doesn’t recognize anyone even in passing from the one time they’d skated here. Someone just asks if he’s high or drunk, if there’s anyone else hurt, if they’d rather have a ride to the hospital. Max denies all of it. Other than that, they just help. There are some adults here, too, and someone has a first aid kit in their car. Necessary precaution for this sort of hobby. Together, they keep the bloody sight of Billy away from kids and the crowd as they hustle Billy away from the skatepark. All through this, Max doesn’t let Billy go. And he doesn’t try to make her let go.

A chain-link fence cordons off the skatepark from an actual park. They find an empty pavilion to sit Billy down while someone offers to tend to his face. Max rejects that offer, takes the kit herself, and wipes blood off Billy’s face. Checks to make sure he hadn’t swallowed any of his teeth or bit his tongue. Maybe two or three skaters with their boards loiter in a semicircle around them. Max asks them to keep an eye out for Neil and her mom. To not attempt to stop Neil but to just yell so Max can tug Billy somewhere else. For a split second, guilt stabs at Max. She just grabbed Billy and ran. Didn’t think about her mom alone with Neil. Max won’t blame her mom for not stepping in and defending Billy or her. Facing all that anger and wild power head on? Max knows exactly why Mom never fought back against Dad, why she doesn’t fight back against Neil. If not for Billy, Neil would have pummeled her. So she understands. 

Groaning with his head tipped back, bleeding plenty sluggish now, Billy bats her hands away from him. Or rather she gives up, because he won’t stop weakly pawing at her hands to get her to stop. It’s the weakest she’s ever seen him, watches his left hand tremble to pinch his nose shut so he can sit up and not bleed everywhere. He’ll need to give the wifebeater he’s wearing a good scrub to get the blood out. Or some club soda. Or just throw it away. His eyes blink slow and hard. He shakes his head like a dog working a shiver out and then peers at her through narrowed eyes. She’s quick to stand away from him, pack the first-aid kit back up, and then hand it off to the bald guy who’d stopped to help her. At the fence, a busty girl holding a toddler on her hip waits for him. There are clunky skates strapped to the toddler’s ankles. They brought him here to teach him to skate together. It’s a little bit of sweetness for Max as everyone leaves them alone under the pavilion. It’s only now that her disgust and horror sink in.

Billy is her step-brother.

A tremor runs through Max as she dwells on that thought. Lets the tendrils of it dig into her and spread. Mom had seemed to recognize him. Recognized that they knew each other. But she said nothing when Max first mentioned them turning around. ‘The guy who lives next door.’ How long has Billy known about her? He obviously has a terrible relationship with Neil—who doesn’t—so maybe Billy didn’t know the whole time… If he did, then…

Like a chilly hand waving over her, Max shivers when she stares at Billy. Still holding his nose, not saying anything as he watches her. Blue on blue.

“You knew who I was the whole time. Didn’t you.”

A ragged sigh escapes his mouth.

“Max—”

“Didn’t you?!”

Her voice bounces off the concrete under them and the high ceiling above. Maybe some heads turn at the skatepark. Max shakes too hard, glares with all her disgust on her face and in her bright eyes to care about anyone overhearing.

Billy grits his teeth, closes his eyes, and then says, “Yea, I knew who you were. I knew Dad married some poor woman and she dragged her daughter out here to live with him. I saw you guys moving in when you got here. That was the first I knew of you. Dad didn’t tell me when or where the wedding was or anything about you guys. Just said he was getting married and he wouldn’t have to worry about me getting anything of grandpa's when he died or anything of his when he died, too.”

“I don’t really care about your sad story,” Max snaps. “You… I know I said you’re the most repulsive person I’ve ever met but this is—”

“Shut the fuck up, Max. Get over it, us being step-siblings doesn’t mean shit.”

“Yes it does!”

She leans forward on the toes of her sneakers to screech that. Billy glares up at her and rolls to his feet, towering over her.

“No! It doesn’t! You didn’t know anything until just now. It didn’t matter before we were fucking, didn’t matter while we were fucking.”

Her hands slap into his chest while a frustrated scream shreds between her teeth.

“Screw you!” Her hands dive into her hair next, nearly hysteric. “You knew the whole time and still wanted to fuck me! You’re-you’re…!”

“We didn’t grow up together!” Billy yells right back, stepping forward to get in her face. “We didn’t know each other period until you moved here. What, you think of me as your brother all of a sudden? Cuz not once have I ever looked at you and thought, ‘Oh yea, hot sister, gotta fuck her like the trailer trash I am.’” He throws his hands out, gesturing to the sprawl around them. He pays no mind to the way Max buries her face in her hands to shield her angry tears. “Nobody here would know the difference, Max. Because it’s bullshit and doesn’t matter. You’re not my sister.”

Her voice trembles more than she’d like when she whimpers, “I hate you.”

“Fine! I’m fine with that! Hate me all you want, but it’s bullshit. It didn’t matter before, it doesn’t matter now.”

Max throws her hands down, uncaring if he sees her ruddy, wet cheeks, and spits, “You’re right, it is bullshit.” She steps forward and mushes him back by his chest. Maybe he humors her when he stumbles back. Maybe Neil’s fists have done more damage than she realizes. She doesn’t care. “You’re bullshit! You’re the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever met! You’re right about one thing, though. It doesn’t matter, because I’m leaving and I’m never coming back.”

That knocks some of the heat right out of his face. He blinks like Neil has boxed his ears all over again.

“What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean you’re leaving?”

She sneers at him through a sniffle and more tears. He doesn’t like her having the upper hand. Good. Fuck him.

“I was out with my mom today, and she told me she talked to my dad about visiting him. And after that, if I wanna stay in San Diego that I can. I don’t have to live here with her and Neil, because she knows this place is a shithole and she knows that I’m miserable and hated every second we’ve lived here. But that’s over now.” She pauses to take a breath, pants like she’s been running. Billy too, although it’s harder for him as he breathes through his mouth. Max straightens herself to her full height, chin jutted out again, and proclaims rather proudly, “I’ll be back long enough to pack up my room. And then I’m leaving and never coming back.”

Billy scoffs at her, “You’re a shit liar, Max.”

“I’m not lying,” she growls back. “I’m going back to San Diego.”

Billy waves her words away.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, although you’re lying about that, too. You didn’t hate  _ every _ second here. So go ahead and go run to your daddy. You’ll come back.”

Of course Max’s anger flares hotter under the egotistical gasoline Billy sprays from his bruised lips. Because he’s a fucking prick and knows how to rile people up. Always running his mouth, never knowing when to quit. Only Max isn’t going to punch or slap or kick him. No, she stands there, sort of blown away, and gently shakes her head at him. Letting the fire go out, because he’s not worth it. Earlier in the car, she’d known her choice the moment Mom offered it to her. Of moving back to San Diego and never coming back. Not even out of spite at the time. She would have left eventually. Inevitably. She always knew, no matter her weird feelings for Billy, that he would be a summer memory. Billy’s mean grin says he thinks otherwise.

“You really think I would have stayed here? Because of you?”

Billy scoffs again. He can’t see the forest for the trees, thinks he  _ is _ the forest. 

“I know you’re crazy about me, Max, don’t fucking tiptoe around it now just because you’re hung up on us being related by marriage, and barely that. So yea, have fun on your little vacation. But you’ll be climbing up the walls to get back here. And maybe I’ll take you back, who knows.”

Huffing, Max shakes her head, says, “You’re not gonna have to worry about that, Billy. You’re a scumbag, I hate you, and I’m never speaking to you again. So fuck you and goodbye.”

She doesn’t wait around for him to start chattering away. Spinning on her heel, she marches back into the sun and glare of the desert as she makes for the hospital parking lot. Mom will most likely be there waiting for her. Worse comes to worst, Max will have to go inside the hospital and find her. That could be tricky, but she’ll figure it out. Anything is better than standing here with Billy while his overinflated ego can’t help itself and dig him in deeper. Because of course he shouts all manner of taunts and filth at her back. Like the child he is.

How no one will ever fuck her like he does. No one will ever satisfy her like he does. That he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her. He hollers after her, voice echoing that she’ll come crawling back. Max hates herself a little for how much it hurts to have him yell all that. Each word is a stab to her heart. Is that all she is to him? Just a fun time? His care and protectiveness after Neil assaulting her told her otherwise. Maybe she was wrong. Billy knew the whole time who she was, seduced and fucked her anyway. He’s trash, knows he’s trash. Finds pride in that. As Max pushes her hair over her shoulders and angrily wipes at her cheeks, she reminds herself of the one truth in her life. The Mayfield women really know how to pick them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh I'm terribly sorry this is late! I was busy running around in my real life trying to put out fires, so to speak. I didn't have time to respond to last chapters' comments or post the final chapter. But now it's here! I can't believe the response this story got! So many of you coming back and reading every chapter, commenting on every chapter. It's very nice. Deepest thanks to all of you who have become my audience and maybe even my fans.
> 
> Ah how will I communicate with you all now... So sad. I have four stories completed, just waiting to be published. I'll be posting "Whispers in the Dark" on Friday, which is the shadow creature Billy fic. It's good, lads. See I'd tell y'all to check the tag on Fridays, but I won't post the finished pieces regularly. All thanks to the buffer I like to keep between completed fics and WIPs. And writing is... a slow process right now. My biggest stress I've been under all last week is gone, now, so maybe I will chip away at the WIP again. Who knows. Fun fact, though, this fic was finished on May 23rd 2020!
> 
> Some songs for this chapter! Two for Billy: [Walkway Blues by M83](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9zRF9JmX1M) and [Cowards by Raleigh Ritchie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBuPxlekt-M). Two for Max as well: [Don't Look Back](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1l3iLpOiSHQ) from the last episode of season four of Rick and Morty and [Us by She Wants Revenge](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPN_wcYVOiU).
> 
> Bonus song. This is the song that would play during the credits of this HBO mini series lol. [Hurricane by Amber Run.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4-CZ6pLpF4)

“So like were there any cool skate spots?”

“That was pretty much the only good thing about living there. Lots of abandoned pools and foundations. Nothing to do, and the other skaters I met didn’t really know how to handle concrete, so I taught them.”

“Sweet.”

Max has been back in her room for three days. It’s the first time one of her friends has come over to stay the night. Standing at the window looking over the front yard below, Tamara turns her heart-shaped face into the breeze rolling in. She bends her foot up to scratch the back of her other leg. She’s mostly legs like Max, only dark brown instead of pale peach like Max. Like Max, though, she bears old scars and more recent bruises on her knees and shins. Rollerblades instead of a skateboard, but everybody makes mistakes and falls, so. It’s how they met, colliding at a skatepark when they were kids. They’ve been besties ever since.

“I guess that makes up for having to spend most of summer break in the middle of nowhere.”

Tamara folds herself back to Max’s bed, leaving the window open. Max’s legs dangle over the edge, lying the wrong way. Staring up at her ceiling and the glow-in-the-dark stars that don’t glow anymore, she says nothing when Tamara lies down, too. Max hasn’t talked about Billy with anyone, sort of doesn’t want to. But also sort of wants to, just to get it out. After she walked away from him and Mom drove them back to Neil’s, Max barricaded herself in her room. She slept in a pile of her clothes just inside the closet. Her bed wasn’t safe, the lock on the door not a sure thing. Friday couldn’t come fast enough, her Greyhound ticket about to burn a hole in her pocket. She never saw Billy once, kept her promise of not speaking to him. It felt… weird. Not going outside to see him like she did before sleeping over. Not waking up with him behind her, already busy with fooling around if he woke up first. Even these past three days in her bed? She keeps waking up to the phantom weight and warmth of Billy. But he’s not here. He ruined that from the start.

“So were there any cute girls?”

“A few,” Max admits. It’s no secret between them where Tamara’s preferences lie. Tamara was her first kiss, after all, although nothing came of it. “I was expecting like… _Night of the Living Dead_ to be honest, but the people who lived there were just normal. Like it sucked, because there was nothing to do. And oh my god, the smell!”

“What smell?”

“The lake or whatever, the Salton Sea. There’s a bunch of dead fish and like bad stuff in the water, so it smells terrible. And there’s dust storms a lot. It got everywhere and made everything dirty all the time.”

Writing ‘wash me’ on Billy’s car. Seeing his ‘fuck you’ as a reply. Had he known she wrote that? When did he decide to entice her? That first time they talked to each other at his car? When he watched her and Mom move in? Max closes her eyes, upset all over again, and turns on her side to face Tamara.

“Sometimes… I wish I could be more like you.”

“Huh?”

Blue eyes open and find Tamara’s blinking at her, a little frown under those warm browns.

“What do you mean?”

Max shrugs.

“You remember how I had a crush on Justin last year? And it sucked, because he liked Kacey Miller, and when I told him I liked him I swore I’d never like a guy again? Sometimes I wish I didn’t like guys at all.”

“How could I forget,” Tamara snorts, rolling onto her side too. “I keep trying to convince you to just date a girl. I thought you figured out your bi thing.” Tamara trails off, eyes her carefully. Max doesn’t look away until Tamara teases, “Oh my god, you met a guy while you were there, didn’t you? Holy shit, Max.”

Max groans and rolls away, covering her face. If she can tell any of her friends about Billy—not about him lying and being a shithead, but just about him—it would be Tamara. She’ll only get a moderate ribbing from Tamara compared to their other gaggle of girlfriends lecturing Max and tearing into her. Especially if she were to divulge Billy’s age…

“So? How bad was it?”

From under her hands, Max admits, “Really bad.” They slip away when the humidity of her breath makes her sweat. “He was bad, us fooling around was bad because we were hiding it. I was bad for letting it be more than that, because it was nothing to him.”

“Yikes,” Tamara sighs in her ear. She doesn’t shy away at all, spoons up behind Max and loops an arm around her. Casually. It’s nothing compared to Billy’s arm, and she hates that. “Hope he wasn’t stupid enough to try and put his hands on you.”

Max recalls scratching Billy’s face in blind panic after Neil… She hasn’t told anyone about that, either. Maybe she’ll tell Tamara one day. Something.

“No, he didn’t try to beat on me or anything, you know I would have wiped the floor with him. Wouldn’t be the first time I busted a board on some asshole’s head.”

Tamara giggles behind her, holds her tighter.

“So like? Are you gonna keep in touch with him or just let it die? Like I get summer flings, plus that distance is rough.”

“No,” Max says softly. Her hand by her face curls up in her blanket. “No I… I’m not speaking to him anymore. He lied to me about something really big, and I trusted him. I spent like every day with him for a month just to get away from my mom and step-dad fighting.” She sighs and turns her head more into the soft covers under her. “It was like having my dad and mom fighting here all over again but like 10x worse. So I hung out with him and well…”

“Oh Max… When you say ‘fooling around’ you mean…”

Max nods.

“Did he wear a condom?”

Ashamed of it now, Max shakes her head. She’d wanted them to have sex so badly at that moment. And every moment leading up to it, enjoyed it of course. Billy made sure she enjoyed it. All the while he knew who she fucking was and just kept right on with her. It still twists her stomach a week later. Sometimes she lies here staring at her dead stars and replays them yelling at each other over and over. Not searching for ways it could have gone differently or how they could have avoided it. Because that’s useless. No, she just replays Billy’s face over and over. His anger and annoyance, scoffing and rolling his eyes at her. Like it was no big deal.

Voice a little thick, Max admits, “I just wish I didn’t like guys sometimes, you know? He screwed up big time, and I can’t stop thinking about him and what he did, what he said. I just wish I didn’t like him so much.”

Tamara holds her even tighter, warm and lean girl behind her. It’s not the same. Despite Billy and his lie, she fucking misses him. Or maybe she misses the things they did together, how he made her feel special. He could have fucked anyone in Salton City and beyond. But he fucked her. Every time Max recalls this, she hits the brick wall of them being step-siblings. She’s even caught herself trying to rationalize it a few times. Because there was some truth to Billy’s words. That it’s not like they’re blood related. Billy was right about no one being the wiser, too. She hates how much he’s right about the details but so wrong about the situation overall. He didn’t even apologize for deceiving her. That’s what hurts most of all. That she didn’t mean enough to him for him to fucking apologize.

“Hey, Max, come on, it’ll be okay.” Tamara must pick up on her tensing and curling up, about to grit her teeth into dust rather than cry. Billy doesn’t deserve her tears and suffering. “He’s just a guy, there are a ton more like him, better than him. And like, I didn’t mean anything about you dating a girl, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I was just teasing.”

Max presses her face so hard into her bed that she can’t breathe for a few seconds. It helps will away the stinging in her eyes and how her throat goes tight.

“Is it bad that I miss him? Like yea, he was a walking asshole, but we had fun together. I liked talking to him, he made the two months I lived there bearable.”

“You miss doing those things with him, Max, and that’s okay.” Tamara’s hand shifts up to Max’s shaking arm, and she pets over the tremor she finds. Her face is in Max’s hair, waves still in it from the braid Tamara had woven the red locks into this morning. She shushes Max and squeezes her arm. “You’re not forgiving him or accepting what he did just because you miss him. It’s okay to miss the things you guys did and how he made you feel. I know he must have made you feel incredible if you liked him that much. You’d sooner flick a guy off than let him look at you.”

Sniffling through a smile, Max laughs, “You’re right. I just… I don’t know, I guess I feel guilty about rushing into things. I didn’t at the time, didn’t right up until I found out he was lying the whole time.”

“About what?”

But Max chews her bottom lip, skin torn from her teeth raking over it so much, and shakes her head.

“I-I don’t wanna talk about that part. Not yet. It’s nothing dangerous or anything. It was just a big lie about who he was, and he didn’t even apologize. When we… I don’t wanna call it a break up, but that’s basically what it was, but when we broke up or whatever, he said all this shit about how I’d come back to him, that nobody would treat me better than him. And that hurt too, cuz? He’s not a good person, he didn’t treat me like shit, but he wasn’t great either. So I hate that I miss him. And was I nothing to him the whole time? Just something to do?”

“Guys are all repressed jerkwads,” Tamara drawls. “There’s no way he didn’t feel something for you, Max. Like yea, maybe at first he just liked what he saw, we all know what that’s like. Window shopping is free, you know?” Max nods, because she’d done the same to him. Looked, but didn’t touch. “But he kept hanging around you after you put out, yea?”

Max grimaces at that, but she nods all the same.

“Okay so there’s your answer. If he only wanted to pump and dump, then he woulda. But he didn’t. And it sounds like? When he was saying all that shit? He was just afraid you were serious about the break up.”

“I told him I hated him and that I was never speaking to him again.”

“Yea, exactly.” Tamara shrugs. “He just wanted the last word. Guys are like that, always gotta be louder than you like they think that wins the argument. He just wanted to hurt you when he said all that shit. He probably didn’t even mean it.”

Oh no, Billy had meant every word. His bloated ego was in high form at that moment. Overly confident that she’d come crawling back. Because no one is better than him. 

“Whatever,” Max sighs. She can’t buy in to Tamara’s reasoning. To think Billy may have felt something for her and yet still lied? Still said all those things? It hurts. “It doesn’t matter anyway. When I go back to Salton City, I’m just grabbing my stuff and coming right back. I’ll probably never see him again.”

In the gentle pause of their conversation, something clicks against glass. Once and then again, too loud to be a bug bumping into the window. Tamara sits up first, frowning at the window. They’re on the second floor. The little roof over the porch doesn’t extend under Max’s window. No one can get in here. They watch the window together and quickly share a look when they watch a tiny rock hit the glass and then fall back to the earth. Tamara rests a hand on Max’s upper arm, keeping her down, and then rises. The window is still cracked open from earlier, and Tamara nudges it all the way to peer into the dark yard below.

“Hey Max?”

“Yea?”

“This summer boy toy of yours. Are his arms like stupid thick? And does he have a mullet?”

Oh no.

“Yea? Why?”

Tamara snorts and then jerks her thumb at the screen keeping bugs out.

“I think he’s in your front yard. I see what you mean about the walking asshole part, but yea, he’s hot. If you’re into mullets.”

“Shut up,” she hisses, not truly annoyed at Tamara for teasing her. Just annoyed that Billy would have the balls to show up here. “I’ll go let Lady out and she’ll chase him away. Most people don’t mess with a big dog like her.”

A chain-link fence wraps all the way around Max’s house and yard. So when she lets Lady, a blue pitbull with her heavy head and powerful shoulders, into the backyard, she makes a beeline for the side of the house. She knows someone is in her yard. So long as Billy doesn’t reveal himself to be an animal abuser, Lady won’t actually hurt him. People are just afraid of how big and loud she is. Which is exactly why Max had wanted her from the pound so much. It wasn’t fair to Lady that nobody wanted her because they thought she was dangerous. She’s a sweetheart. Nobody wanted to give her a chance. So Max begged her parents and brought Lady home when they finally caved to her pleading. Lady is getting up there in years. It’s only a matter of time before she’s gone, and Max doesn’t like thinking about that. She smiles, though, at Lady’s deep bark the moment she spots Billy.

When Max slips back into her room, though, Tamara is sucking her teeth and shaking her head.

“Didn’t work,” she says with another snort. “He didn’t even flinch when Lady came running at him. He’s sitting in the grass petting her, and she is loving it.”

Great. Of course Lady likes Billy. Why couldn’t he be afraid of big dogs like most people?

Tamara rocks herself off the windowsill, says, “Stay here, I’ll chase him off. Think he’ll run if I come at him with your dad’s meat cleaver?”

But Max darts forward and grabs Tamara by both arms, shuffling around her to block the girl’s path.

“No, don’t, he’s stupid, he’d probably try to catch the blade with his hands. He’s a dumb boy, remember?”

“Looks more like a dumb man, but sure.” Tamara lifts an eyebrow at her. “How old is he?”

Max doesn’t answer that, rushes out, “Just stay here,” and then bolts from the room. 

She’s down the stairs in her sleep clothes, shorts and a t-shirt, in no time. The locks on the front door click when she flicks them, opens the door only wide enough to squeeze out. Hopefully her dad doesn’t wake up. Hopefully whatever they’re about to say to each other doesn’t devolve into a shouting match. It’s Billy, so…

He’s still on the ground with Lady sprawled in his lap like she’s a miniature poodle instead of a fully grown pit. She’s calm, now, and just enjoys him petting her sides and barrel chest. When Billy looks up, his eyes are bloodshot and a little glassy.

“Hey little red.”

Max crosses her arms over her chest and leans her weight on one hip. She pays no mind to the long, up and down look he gives her.

“Are you… drunk?”

It’s not until she’s standing on the footpath and the wind shifts that she catches the sourness of beer on him. Billy twists around under Lady’s weight, pats the ground with a free hand, and then sure enough produces an obnoxiously big and tall can of beer. When he waggles it at her with a grin, only a tiny bit sloshes at the bottom.

“Don’t worry, Max, I didn’t start drinking til I got here.” He sets the beer back down to get both hands on Lady. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a dog? She’s a real cutie.”

He slurs all through that, his grin lopsided. Max doesn’t exactly believe him about the drinking part, but he only has the one beer. That she can see.

“Not really worried about you so much as the pole you’d wrap your car around when you crash.”

The Camaro must be parked down the street or wherever Billy could find a spot. Cars crammed in claustrophobic lines crowd both curbs. Plus it’s the middle of the night on a Monday. Everyone is home. Sleeping. Who knows how far away he had to park. Max doesn't care, just needs to get him out of here.

Sighing, Max drops her arms and says, “Go home, Billy. Whatever you came here to say or do, I don’t care. Just go.”

“Awww come on, don’t be like that.”

With more coordination that she’d thought possible, Billy nudges Lady off him and then stands. He stumbles but catches himself with a wobbly step backwards. Lady is eager at his hip, sitting on her haunches and waiting for attention. Normally her affection for people is sweet. Right now it’s just embarrassing.

Max holds out her hand and whistles. “Lady come.”

Like Billy stops existing, Lady snaps to Max’s hand and barely needs any guidance at all to trot to the front door. Max holds the screen door open and pushes the front door back so Lady can slip inside. When Max turns around, Billy is still in the yard. Unbalanced a bit and leaning back but standing. Max returns to the footpath and levels a look at him.

“Go back to your car and sleep it off. I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

Billy scoffs, rolls his whole head instead of his eyes, and drawls, “Come on, Max, don’t be a bitch.”

He takes a stumbling step for her with his hands out already. Above them, the clack of the screen in her window sliding back draws Max’s eyes up. Leaning out of the window with Max’s bow and arrow from Girl Scouts, Tamara has a bead on Billy. There are no points on her practise arrows. But they still hurt.

“Don’t even think about it, Dukes of Hazzard,” Tamara coos from on high.

Max almost laughs at the way Billy’s head whips up to glare at her, how he instantly staggers towards the house instead of away. Beause he’s stupid.

“G’head, fuckin shoot me, I dare you.”

Tamara just shrugs, says, “Okay,” and lets an arrow fly. It darts faster than they can blink and glides into the soil right in front of Billy. It would be between his legs if he were still sitting. “I’m pretty good with this thing. The next one won’t miss.”

This could get ugly quickly. Not that Max wouldn’t mind Tamara making Billy dance under a volley of arrows. Even though Max only has like ten of them sitting in her closet with the bow. Max loves that Tamara has done this, grins down at Billy’s scowl unafraid. Because she knows he won’t do shit, now. He’s stupid, but not that stupid.

Bare feet in the grass, Max grabs one of Billy’s wrists, hisses, “Let’s go,” and then tugs him to the gate. To Tamara she calls up, “I’ll be back, just gonna remind him where he parked, I’ll be okay.”

She can’t have Tamara overhear anything that may fall out of Billy’s mouth. Because he’s driven all the way here for one thing and one thing only. Her. To talk her into coming back or to berate her. Something. It’s desperate is what it is, and Max cannot have these worlds colliding. So she stomps down the street, not sure at all where Billy is parked, and doesn’t stop until Billy yanks his hand free.

“Stop pulling on me like a little kid,” he grumbles. Like she’s actually hurt him. 

They’re on the sidewalk in front of someone's house in the middle of the night. Max is barefoot in nothing but loose shorts and a t-shirt. And Billy sways on his feet, buzzed. This isn’t the best place or time to talk.

“Go home, Billy.”

He peers at her through narrowed eyes. Tired. His hair is messy but somehow flat. Dark stubble comes in on his jaw more than usual. So he hasn’t shaved today. Isn’t taking care of himself. 

“No.”

Max throws her head back and whispers, “You are such a child.” When she rights her head, Billy is directly in front of her. Not touching her. But the heat of his body buffets her in the mild San Diego night.

“When are you coming back?”

His voice is steadier, surer than it had been when he slurred in the yard. His wobble is the only thing that gives him away.

“I’m coming back next week to pack up my room. That’s it, I’m not staying.”

“You’re lying,” he insists lowly.

“I’m not.” Max stares him hard in the face, leaning towards him without noticing. “I’m not lying, Billy. After I get my stuff from Neil’s trailer, I’m never coming back. Not even to visit my mom. Never.”

Billy gnashes his teeth at that, goes so far as to turn his head and scowl at the ground. Max holds her breath while watching Billy struggle with this. Probably jumping through all sorts of mental hoops to convince himself otherwise. Because for Billy, this can’t be true. He can’t not get his way. However, everything he knows and has witnessed about Max tells him she’s not lying. But he can’t believe it. Even when his face crumbles for a split second, something like genuine hurt flashing across his face, he just frowns over it and blinks down at her. Confused and a little lost.

“Why?”

Closing her eyes only to blink hard a few times, Max blurts out, “Why what?”

Staring at her with his little frown, Billy asks, “Why are you doing this?”

She almost can’t believe him. It’s only the guarded hurt on his face, that vulnerability, that prevents her from tearing him to shreds. Like she should. Luckily for Billy, she’s not mean like him.

“You know why. Because you lied to me about who you were.”

Billy throws his head back, slouches all dramatic on his knees, and rights himself to nearly whine, “Why are you so hung up about that? Why does it matter to you so much? Your mom is probably gonna divorce Neil anyway, they’ve been at each other’s throats since you left. Your mom started fighting back, by the way.”

Max’s heart goes out to her mother and the difficult choices they’ve made. Still. She will not be staying in Salton City. It took years of abuse for Mom to divorce Dad. She won’t be divorcing Neil any time soon.

“Maybe you can teach her how to throw a real punch,” Max suggests, desperate to keep this conversation at the surface and not have Billy blow up. “Drive safely when you go home.”

Max tries to walk past him, leaving enough room so they don’t touch. Billy’s hands don’t allow that, strike like twin vipers to stop her. He gets her by the upper arms and just… holds her still. Doesn’t shake her, doesn’t throw her around. He is only a head taller than her and yet somehow manages to tower over her like she’s a child. She’s never feared Billy, even when they were yelling at each other. No fear sours her now. It would only take a single scream from her to wake the whole block. Everybody on this street knows her. She holds that scream back as Billy searches her face for something. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the lateness of the hour. Something breaks his usual mask of anger and suaveness. It allows her a glimpse through the cracks. He doesn’t like any of this and doesn’t know how to claw her to him any other way. Max almost lets herself get swept up in the rawness of him. Almost.

“Let me go, Billy,” she says lowly.

Instead, he grits his teeth and hisses, “I don’t understand why this is a big deal to you.” His hands tighten on her skin, but still he does not hurt her. “I don’t understand why you won’t come back and just work this out with me. Why are you running away?”

Max cannot help the scoff that pops out of her. Billy’s face twists a little, turning stern, but he keeps it together.

“Billy, how long did you think I was going to stick around those trailers? Before I even met you, I already had a plan to convince my mom to let me move back here. I had that figured out before we started packing!” She shakes her head at him, understanding his confusion about as well as he understands her feelings over this. They’re certainly not going to see eye to eye on it tonight. They’re too emotional, bound to fuck it up with how explosive their tempers are. “And even if that didn’t work? The second I was done with high school, I would have left. I either would have moved back in with my dad or went to college.”

His face breaks a little more. Like he hadn’t considered that. Like once he had her in his life, carved out a spot for her in the trailer and in his bed, that she would always be there. She sees it but rejects it hotly, almost lets her grimace show. Instead, Max keeps her face soft, if neutral. She doesn’t want to hurt him like he hurt her. That will get them nowhere.

“Billy… did you really think I would stay in your grandpa’s trailer with you forever? And like, what, be your fuck buddy?”

Like before, he struggles with that. It’s just sad now, because he stares somewhere level with her chin. It’s not jutted out anymore. The fight is over. She doesn’t have to snap her teeth at him or order him around. His hands barely hold her arms anymore. She could shrug him off.

“I…” He sighs, shakes his head, and tries, “Max, come on…”

It’s the closest he will get to begging. She will not be swayed. Her life was never meant to last there. And she won’t go back.

“There’s nothing for me there. I have to think about my future. I wanna go to college and do something with my life, not live in a trailer in the middle of hell and just… coast through life.” Max won’t be her mother. She holds herself very still in his hands and under his eyes that look terribly lost. It’s not an expression that suits the edges in him. It’s hard to look at. So she doesn’t, turns her head away. “I was never going to stay there. Not for you, not for anyone else. So let me go and go home.”

“Max—”

“Just stop! There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind. This is how it’s going to be, okay?” Now she shrugs him off, tired of this. Tired of thinking non-stop about him and how he hurt her. She jabs a finger in his chest and grinds out, “I decided all that before the truth about us came out, Billy. You lying to me didn’t change my mind, it just made it easier to leave.”

“Why?”

They’ve never talked about her crush. Or whatever she felt for him. Feels for him. Whatever. She hadn’t called it a crush at the time and still won’t now. Crushes are delicate things. Soft things full of shy glances and flirting and waiting for that first kiss. That’s not what they are. They circled each other in a game of cat and also cat rather than cat and mouse. They lunged at each other and fell into each other with their claws out and teeth bared. What she feels for Billy even now, despite everything, isn’t a crush. It’s something, and she needs it to be nothing. Because it’s nothing to him.

“Because I don’t mean anything to you. I know I didn’t mean anything to you.” She bites back her sorrow, lifts a hand, and rests it in the center of his chest. He is as warm as ever. She misses that, but pushes him away a step. She can’t stand him being so near, can’t stand that she can smell his cologne so strong. “But you saw right through me. And I-I can’t do this. I can’t have these messed up feelings for you while you don’t care at all. We were gonna crash and burn eventually anyway, so just… just stop. Go home.”

When Max gathers her courage to look up at him, Billy’s face is carefully blank. Closed off. It hurts just as much as she knew it would.

“Goodbye, Billy,” she says softly, stepping past him. 

To turn around or to even glance at him over her shoulder as she walks away would be too much. She’d never intended to tell him how she feels, never intended to brush the topic of her feelings ever again. Even if Billy knew all along, picked her apart from the start, so long as she never faced it? It wasn’t real. It’s out there, now. Speaking it into the universe, she can’t deny it, now. She’ll get over it. She got over every Justin and Brittney, so. She’ll get over Billy, too. It just sucks, even though she knew it would never last.

When Max steps into her dark house, she just sits down with her back against the door and welcomes Lady in her lap. Lady knows she’s upset immediately and tries so gently to climb up her and lick her face. Max doesn’t cry a little until Tamara wanders silently down the stairs and sits next to her, tugs Max’s head to rest on her shoulder. Now it’s safe to cry, and so she does.

-

It’s Friday after her brush with Billy. Tamara is here again, glued at the hip after letting Max have a little cry on her. But Tamara won’t be staying. She’s only here to drag Max’s tipsy ass back to her house and dump Max in her bed. Tamara stays long enough to make sure Max is comfortable and lying face-down. Not that she’s completely pissed, just as a precaution. Max is aware enough to tease her friend about how much she cares. Tamara just shoves the curtain of Max’s hair over her head and then leaves, mentions something about calling her tomorrow when Max can tolerate being awake. That’s the thought that circles Max’s mind, waiting on Tamara’s call, when the phone actually rings. It’s past midnight. Her dad could wake up.

“Oh my god,” Max hisses, slapping for the old, corded phone on her nightstand. She isn’t much of a gabber while on the phone but enough to where her parents let her have the phone in here at all. So she slaps the receiver out of its cradle and already giggles when she says, “How did you get home so fast? You like just left, unless I drank more than I thought.”

A long pause.

“You havin’ some fun tonight too, little red?”

Max sits up ramrod straight on her bed despite how alcohol sloshes around in her stomach and makes her head spin.

“Billy?”

He huffs a single chuckle.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. And uh before you ask, Susan gave me this number. I may have lied to her about why I needed it.”

Mom is easy to lie to. And trusting, so Max believes that. Why would Billy bother lying? Him actually calling her up is what jars her into silence. Max already has a finger twisted in a loop of the cord. Nervous habit. Or just a fidget. After leaving Billy on the sidewalk, he hadn’t come back or showed up in the days after. She didn’t even know if he made it home safely, too proud or ashamed to call Mom and ask if the Camaro was parked next door.

Her worries have been for nothing, because obviously he’s fine. He’s fine enough to call her despite the conversation they had. Despite her saying from the beginning that she hates him and isn’t speaking to him. Funny how Billy continues to ignore things that don’t align with what he wants. Ignore the things that try to get in his way and then the path is clear. Max isn’t sober enough to bark at him to not call her. His voice is deep and purring like when he’s tired. Or high, melting into the couch or his bed with a slick, lazy grin on his face.

Smile tugging at her lips as she slumps onto her front, Max asks, “Are you high?”

Another laugh from Billy.

“A little. What gave it away?”

“Your voice. You sound like this when you’re tired or high, so.”

It means something that she knows what he sounds like while high. The pause Billy gives her lets her know he catches it, too. This is probably a bad idea. Entertaining Billy’s… desperation. She thinks back to telling him goodbye, meaning it to be the final goodbye. It’s the alcohol that makes her stay on the line. Makes her hang on every breath, every hum of Billy’s. Just because she’d said goodbye doesn’t mean she stopped missing him. It takes time. Billy doesn’t make it easy to stop missing him, won’t stay away to let her heal. He is a thorn in her side that just won’t get out no matter how she struggles or picks at it.

Just when she thinks she has a handle on things, stops thinking about him, something pops up to remind her. A loud car, a shirtless guy with a build like Billy’s. Hell, she went with Dad to do the shopping recently and needed more shampoo and conditioner. She stood in that aisle for longer than necessary, picking up bottles she never even looked at before. Popping their caps and smelling them, Max didn’t catch that she was searching for the ones Billy uses until Dad walked up. She grabbed the normal brand she uses, face hot to the touch the whole ride home. Max isn’t making it easy on herself, either. Moving on.

“So… what’s up with you?” She hears his awkward wince through the phone. “You said something about drinking?”

She shrugs.

“Just came back from a party with my friends. Someone’s older brother or sister was cool and bought booze.”

At least she doesn’t have to worry about a lecture from Billy. Maybe some teasing about being a lightweight still. But nothing about how she’s too young or she should be careful. Billy would be right there with her, slamming them down. If a party of high school kids surrounding a 24 year old—who looks more like he’s 30—was a thing that would happen, of course. Still… if Billy were her age, it would be fun. He’s fun. She misses having fun with him.

“Oh the bow and arrow girl. Is she around?”

Max shakes her head, says after a few seconds, “No, she left. She’s hooking up with a girl that doesn’t go to our school, so.”

Billy hums deep and warm, drawls, “Oh some lesbian action. Hot. Too bad she’s not gonna let you watch.”

Max’s face twists in disgust, buzz ruined. She sits up and mutters, “I’m hanging up,” only to have Billy scramble in her ear.

“Wait, Max wait, I didn’t-come on, I didn’t mean it, I’m just playing around, don’t hang up.”

The plea whining in his voice is the only thing that makes her freeze where she sits up on her knees. It’s quiet on the line, just their breathing. The choice is hers. It would be easy to hang up and then go pull the phone line out of the wall in her room and the phone downstairs. Cutting him off is the smart thing to do if he won’t stay away. It’s what she should do.

Sitting back on her calves once more, Max holds herself with her free arm and asks so small, “Why are you doing this? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?”

“Cuz I thought you might be awake.”

“Billy,” she sighs, put-out. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Why did you really call?”

Tamara’s voice drifts over her. ‘Guys are all repressed jerkwads. There’s no way he didn’t feel something for you.’ He’ll never admit it, if it’s true. Pulling teeth.

When Billy says nothing, voice grumbling through his exhales, Max says, “If you miss me, just say it. If you’re sorry, then apologize. Whatever you’re trying to do with-with driving here to see me and calling right now? It’s just making everything worse.”

“Then hang up.”

Her anger cannot spark from underneath the heavy gloss of her buzz. Still, she snaps, “I will.”

“Then do it.”

Pulling the plastic receiver away from her ear, Max stretches towards the cradle. To hang up on him. Her hand hovers in the air halfway to her nightstand. The plastic whines under her grip, knuckles going bone-yellow when she squeezes. It should be easy. She’d almost done it after his crass remark. Billy hurt her with his lie, did it so easily, never stumbled in his charade. Fucked her despite knowing their relationship, despite knowing she felt more for him. And yet nearly in the same wave of his hand took her out and had genuine fun with her. Showed interest in her hobbies, even if the extent of his ‘interest’ in video games was to distract her with his groping hands. He held her when she was frantic and torn up over Neil, let her stay with him because she knew she was safe with him.

When Max guides the receiver back to her ear, Billy is still there.

“I stared at the phone all night, wanting to call you,” he admits after difficult, loud breaths huffing in her ear. “Had to get high to actually do it.”

She can’t help the sad, quiet laugh that pops out of her, the giggle sewn into her voice when she teases, “What a pussy.”

“Yea,” he laughs right back. Humorless. “I really am.”

A stretch of quiet again. Max chews on her bottom lip, wonders what he’s doing. If he’s just slumped on the couch in his spot with the TV on. Is he looking at the empty cushion beside him? Wishing she were there? Max slips to her right hip and then lies down at the headboard, pillow under her. The other she hugs to her chest. It’s a poor substitute. She worries maybe he was right. That no one will ever compare to him, as stupid as the thought is. Despite them being step-siblings, she’s still here. Talking to him. Missing him. 

“I keep… waking up in the middle of the night,” he says after a while. Casually. “And you’re not here. And there’s a second before I’m fully awake when I wonder where you are. And then I remember. It’s hard to fall back asleep.”

Heart beating faster and her buzz encouraging her, Max responds in kind, “One of my neighbors has a muscle car. Every day when he goes to work and I hear his car start, I think about how we used to see each other every morning.”

“Yea?”

Max nods, burrows deeper into her pillow and hugs the other tighter. The phone is uncomfortable under her ear, but she just wants to lie here and listen to his voice.

“I didn’t tell Tamara who you are. She just thinks you're some guy I met this summer and we fooled around. I didn’t tell her why we’re not talking anymore.”

“Like how we’re not talking right now.”

She huffs, murmurs, “Asshole,” under her breath.

“Max.”

“What?” She snaps. She doesn’t mean for it to come out so thick and hurt. 

He grumbles again, breathes hard through his nose. She imagines his tight face, rolling his thin lips together and struggling with himself. He is not good at vulnerability, unsure of how to fit that jigsaw piece into himself. So Max gives him the quiet rasp of her breaths to let him collect himself.

“I was never gonna interact with you and Susan when Dad told me about you two coming here. I hate him, hate anything having to do with him. So after he told me about you, I was gonna steer clear, because I didn’t give a fuck about his fake, new family. I knew he’d fuck it up just like he fucked it up with my mom and me.”

“So?” She pulls her head away to sniffle. She’s not crying. “What does that matter?”

A sigh.

“I saw you and your mom pull up in her car and the moving truck. I just wanted to look so I would know who you two were, so I could avoid you both. I knew Dad wasn’t gonna tell either of you about me, because to him, I don’t exist. You didn’t notice how he didn’t have pictures of me anywhere? You didn’t know who I was when we met, didn’t even know Neil had a son.”

She had no time to notice after everything was said and done. But no. Neil’s trailer was absent of family photos except a black and white print of his parents on their wedding day. And a new photo of himself and Mom at the altar. Maybe Mom knew who he was. She recognized Billy at the hospital, mentioned the wedding. But no one ever said anything to Max about Billy. Neil must have stressed to Mom to not talk about Billy. Max may never understand the web of lies and unspoken words surrounding them. She just focuses on Billy’s mistruth.

“I still don’t know where you’re going with all this.”

“I just wanted you to know, is all. If it means anything to you, that I was never going to approach you.”

“But you did. So what changed?”

A deep sigh, a pause, and then reluctantly, “Seeing you.” When Max says nothing to that, lets the silence drag on, Billy tries, “You guys got in late in the day, and I was already home, just got out of the shower. So I sat on my bed and watched you and the movers unload the truck. You got hot after a few trips in and out with boxes, and when you came outside the next time you were in like… the smallest pair of shorts I’ve ever seen and a tank top. You weren’t wearing a bra, and every time you came out of Neil’s trailer, your nipples were hard. So… I watched you move in. And couldn’t stop thinking about you after.”

Even through the haze of her buzz, Max knows it’s twisted. That Billy had watched her, knowing full well who she was, her age, everything, and yet ogled her from his bedroom window. After his shower, too, which means it’s entirely possible he was either sitting there naked or only in sweatpants. Maybe he grabbed himself while watching her. Like some sweaty creep who can’t make eye contact with a pretty girl or he’ll bust in his underwear. The only difference between Billy and someone like that is that Billy is bold. Confident. Knows what he wants, will do anything to get it. And he wanted Max, and so took steps to get her. It’s something about him that made her all the hungrier for him: the pursuit. His obvious interest in her. The power in that swept her right off her feet. To know she had someone so attractive—older too—looking at her the way she looked at him. That seems so long ago: their coy games while coming and going.

Desperate and lonelier than ever, Max pleads, “What do you want me to say? What am I supposed to say to that?”

“Nothing,” Billy snaps, growls after. Frustrated. With some of the sharpness smoothed out of his voice, he tries again, “Nothing, Max, I just wanted you to know. I fucking got off to watching you like that and couldn’t stop. I didn’t stop, because it doesn’t matter who we are. We aren’t doing anything wrong, okay? You’re not my sister.”

She won’t even mention the fact that she’s underage. That’s never what this has been about. ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’

“If people knew, they’d say it was wrong.”

Billy huffs, drawls, “So what, you suddenly care what people think? And unless we tell them? Nobody would know.” The line rustles, maybe him sitting up or something, but his voice is almost a whine again when he goes on, “Come on, Max. You can’t sit here and say you’re thinking about me because of your neighbor’s fucking car and not miss me.”

“Just because I miss you doesn’t make it right.” She has to swallow a few times after that. To keep her voice from going all over the place. Because she’s admitting it to him, that she misses him. Arming him with ammo aplenty to destroy her. “Just because I can’t stop thinking about you doesn’t mean it’s not messed up.”

“Okay, so it’s messed up. Whatever, we’re not hurting anybody! Nobody has to know, Max, please…”

Not once. In all their hours, days, weeks together. Had he ever said please to her. Max would remember teasing him about it. Because he’s rude and a jackass. Billy’s voice cuts off immediately after the word runs out of his mouth. Like he hadn’t meant to say that.

Breathing tightly from how raw her edges are, Max asks, “Are you even sorry that you hurt me? Even if you can’t understand why I’m hurt, can you even apologize for lying?”

“Max—”

“Unless you’re going to apologize, I don’t wanna hear it! And I know you won’t. You can’t even do that!”

Her breath catches in her throat. To stop Billy from hearing more, she slaps a hand over her mouth. Curling up tighter, Max drags her ear away from the phone and shakes with her hand cupped over her voice leaking through each breath she takes. She hates so much, chokes on it, how he hurts her with so little. He knows exactly where to stick the thin flint of his knife and slice her up. She hates herself, too, for her feelings that persist even now. Hates missing him and wishing things hadn’t changed, wishes she were with him right now. Distantly, Billy’s voice saying her name, frantic edge bleeding in, tickles her ears. Calls her back despite the hot fury filling her eyes and her teeth grinding so hard her jaw aches.

“What?!” She nearly shrieks into the phone when she grabs it, sits up to glare into the dark.

“Will you come back if I apologize?”

“Fuck you,” she spits. “It’s not about me coming back, you asshole! Get it through your thick head: I’m not coming back!”

“But I want you to come back, you fucking bitch! I miss you, okay? There, I said it, are you fucking happy now?!”

They’re back at the pavilion yelling at each other all over again. Well, Max isn’t quite yelling yet. But any louder and she’ll wake her dad up. And that will be a whole can of worms she doesn’t want to deal with. Her free hand slides into her hair and tugs at red locks. This night had started so well. Meeting up with Tamara down the street, laughing and drinking at the party, stumbling home with the promise of seeing or at least talking to each other tomorrow. And now she’s folded to her knees on her bed biting back angry tears and screams because Billy won’t let this go. He won’t let her go. He misses her, too, and that makes everything harder.

“Fuck,” Billy sighs in her ear. Exhausted. “Fuck, Max, I… I didn’t mean to yell. I didn’t call you to fight and scream at each other. Don’t hang up, Max, I…”

His voice is distant, pulled away from the phone, when he shouts, “Fuck!”

It’s not right in her ear, but she jumps huddled on her knees anyway. She had always run away and tried to block out when people would scream around her. Raised voices anywhere do that to her—make her tense and worry when something will pop off.

Billy comes back with his voice nearly mellow when he says, “I miss you, okay? Not because we had sex and fooled around. I fucking miss having you here and someone to talk to. I miss how into each other we were. I’ve never met anyone who called me on my bullshit but was still into me. You call me an asshole and gross, but you still smile at me and let me kiss you. I’m not good at this kind of shit, okay? I just… I miss you a lot. I know you won’t come back, but I want you to come back. I know I can’t convince you to change your mind, I just wanted you to know.”

‘There’s no way he didn’t feel something for you.’

Max sits up again, so tired and cold now from the adrenaline rush. Her left hand is clammy when she wipes it on the front of her shirt. She’s still in shorts and a thin top from the party, had been content to just sleep in her clothes. Turning her head away from the phone, she sniffles hard and clears her throat a few times.

Voice rough like she’s been crying, Max says, “Tell me you’re sorry, then. For lying.”

“I’m not sorry,” Billy fires back, although the heat in his voice is restrained. “I’m not sorry for not telling you who I am. We never would have ended up together if I did. But I never would have been satisfied just being your step-brother, Max. There would have always been a part of me that wanted more. You would just hate me more right now if you knew from the start and I came on to you. I know myself very well, Max. I fuck up most good things in my life. There’s no way I could have stayed away from you. So I’m not sorry.”

Of course he’s right. Billy is a reckless, idiot of a boy, but he’s right most of the time. When it comes to them. Her. If she had rolled past Billy and he stopped her, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his uniform and explained he was Neil’s son, Max would have flustered and kicked herself away embarrassed. Because from the first moment she saw him, she wanted him, too. And like Billy, there probably always would have been a part of her that wanted him. Them being step-siblings would have kept her away, unlike Billy. She is so full of shame, overflowing with it sometimes. The thought of what could have been would always be there to tempt her, though. She never would have progressed beyond sweaty nights in her bed with a hand under her shirt and the other in her panties. She flushes hot to her hairline even now when she admits that.

“Max,” Billy says softly when she’s been quiet for too long. “I don’t want this to end. What do I have to do to make it up to you?”

Max shakes her head against the phone, knows he can’t see her and so says, “I-I don’t know, I don’t know if we can fix this.”

“But you miss me. You said you did. So why can’t we work this out? You got over the age thing, you got over being shy. Can’t you get over this too?” He huffs away from the phone, struggling again. “Please, Max.”

Those things had taken time. Maybe to Billy it seemed like Max flipped a switch and just didn’t care anymore. He can’t see the shame in her. She battled it when first admitting her attraction to him. Struggled when she started welcoming his hands on her. Fought it until the very end panting and sweaty under him when they fucked for the first time. It never ends, surges so strongly now that her confidence in Billy is gone. She thought she knew where they stood with each other. Now she has doubts. 

“I… I need time.”

“How much time?”

She sighs and tries, “I don’t wanna lead you on, Billy. It’s not fair to—”

“How much time, Max?” When the silence lingers, Max chewing herself up, Billy insists, “Max.”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, okay? I don’t wanna give you a number and then you expect me to be okay when it’s over. I might not ever be okay with this, you know that, right?”

He says nothing to the latter point, grumbling under his breath. Because just like Billy being unable to accept the truth of Max never coming back, he cannot accept the idea of them not being together. In their messed up, not-love way. Because when Max thinks of Billy, she doesn’t think the word ‘love.’ She thinks about bruises and sharp teeth and filthy words and his hunger for her. She is in the light once again with the prowling thing circling her. Only now instead of snarling and clawing for her, it howls mournful and lonely. The more desperate it becomes, the more she must huddle in the dead center of the light. Because she wants to crawl to the edge that separates them and fall back into it. It’s wrong, but that’s what she wants. If there is any hope of them being something, then she needs time to deal with the wrongness. To get over it or learn to ignore it. Something. 

“Don’t worry about that,” he grunts. “Just take time and think about it. I’m gonna get off the phone before I say or do something stupid, because I feel like I’m uncomfortably close to that point.”

“Yea, probably,” Max mumbles under her breath. Billy probably hears it anyway.

“I’m calling you next Friday unless you tell me not to. This is your chance. Take all the time you need, that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. So speak up.”

It wouldn’t be Billy if he asked to call. Or asked if it’s okay to call. Billy just gives her a choice: yes or no. She knows what she should do. It all depends on what she wants. If she wants to entertain Billy chatting her up. Entertain him trying to woo her or making amends or buttering her up. What does she want?

“Goodnight, Billy.”

She hangs up.

-

Four Fridays later, the end of September and wondering when Billy will call tonight, Max loiters in her kitchen. It’s at the back of the house with its little window above the sink. A perfect view of the patio and Dad at the grill. Charcoal has some trick to it, takes forever. So it’s damn near seven when Dad finally rocks to his feet and calls for Max to bring burgers and brats out. Tamara and two more of her girlfriends are out back, too. Gossiping already even though school has only been back in session for a month. Tamara keeps trying to get up and come help her, but Max waves her away. If Mom were here, she’d have something to say about company helping with dinner. It’s a sleepover tonight. So Max wishes Billy would call sooner rather than later. 

She wanders back into the kitchen after delivering raw meat to the grill master. Hopefully Dad doesn’t burn everything to a crisp. A sore spot in his marriage, since his pride and masculinity refuse to allow anyone else near the grill. Max rolls her eyes while watching him. She’s the only one in the house with the windows open and air moving through it. So she hears the growl of a muscle car, knows it’s not her neighbor, and catches the murmur of heavy metal before it cuts off. She can’t quite make it to the front door before there’s a knock. Lady isn't so old yet that she doesn’t hear it from the back and come running around the front. There’s nothing stopping Dad or her friends from following. 

“I’ve got it!”

Tearing the door open, she is surprised and yet not surprised to see Billy. Surprised because it’s Friday night. Their call night—which she hasn’t told anyone about, even Tamara. So why is he here? But she’s also not surprised, because the moment she’d heard the engine, she knew it was his Camaro. Somehow. So she glances between him, Lady sitting with her mouth open ready to bark, and then the backyard. Someone might see him. 

“What are you doing here?” She hisses between tight teeth. 

Smile patronizing, Billy cocks his head and says, “I wanted to see you, isn’t that obvious?”

Max grits her teeth all the harder. A whip of her head around shows her that Dad and everyone else are still in the backyard. Tamara will be the one to come look for her, though. Tamara is the only one who knows who Billy is, what he looks like. Pushing him back onto the porch to talk or sending him away won’t work. Mostly because she knows he will not be sent away without being heard. And walking back to his car to talk won’t do either. They’ll be spotted for sure. So, growl shredding through her teeth, Max snatches one of his wrists, tugs him inside, and then kicks the door shut once Lady squeezes in. Lady is a liability, too, so Max doesn’t try to deter her when she pounds up the stairs behind them. Any protest Billy might make never comes up even when Max shoves him into her room and slams her bedroom door shut. Her back is flush to it when she stabs the nub of the lock beside the knob.

She isn’t sure of what to make of this. Billy in her bedroom. A grown man looking around her things and the setting of so many childhood memories. Ghosts of all the times she has sung and danced in here, cried while upset, huddled on her bed with a pillow over her head while her parents fought. They’re not for his eyes to see, but now the shape of him will exist amongst them. She sees him in this space, now, and it will be hard to not think about him later while she and the other girls bed down for the night. He makes it worse when he sits on the edge of her bed, the bulk of him denting the mattress.

Lady is eager beside him, shoving her head onto his hands when he drawls, “Nice room.”

Max’s back remains flat to her bedroom door while she crosses her arms over her chest. She holds her reply in her mouth while Billy baby talks down at Lady, rubbing both hands hard over her head when he pets her. A single bark tears through the room, but Billy shushes her and calms her right back down. Max should be annoyed at it. Billy’s ease and Lady’s betrayal. She can’t find it in herself to be annoyed.

“What are you doing here?” She asks with most of the heat gone from her voice.

Billy glances up from petting his thumb between Lady’s eyes and then jerks his head.

“You gonna stand all the way over there while talking to me? Come on, little red, you know I don’t bite. Much.”

Max knows the wink is coming before he even does it. He’s perfectly in character for himself. Smooth, just shy of lewd when he looks her up and down. It’s still plenty warm here, so she’s in jean shorts and a t-shirt. Her not wearing a bra has nothing to do with him, but he probably thinks that as his intense stare lingers over her chest. To think he knows what she looks like naked. He knows better than even herself what she looks like under these clothes. Talking to him hasn’t made the distance and the rift between them go away. Hasn’t made it easier to forget him or let him go. How long are they going to continue like this? Billy still hasn’t answered her question.

“Tell me why you’re here and I’ll move.”

“What is this, _Let’s Make a Deal_?” He chuckles at that, but when he takes in the stern purse of her lips, he rolls his eyes. “I said I wanted to see you, Max. I mean it.”

“You didn’t say anything about showing up here. You only said you’d keep calling.”

“Max.”

They watch each other for a spell. Long enough for nerves to wind up in Max. She has never been this nervous around him. Not even at the start when he would pull his aviators down to wink at her every morning. Oh, how she’d flourished under that attention. She is gun shy, now, doesn’t know what to do with him filling her room to the breaking point. If everything didn’t happen that day, she would have swept him up the stairs giggling and would probably be all over him right now. They’d at least be making out with his hands on her ass, trying to squeeze down her shorts. The image nearly overlays reality and how he twists at the hip to look at her. Him lifting a hand swirls that fantasy to disturb the colors and shapes of them. He holds that hand out, flicks his fingers towards himself.

“C’mere. I’m not gonna do anything.”

She doesn’t trust his words. Not out of spite or anger. Billy is just full of stolen taste tests. Peeking at her when she’d climbed out of the shower that one night. Kissing the corner of her mouth after murmuring much the same thing, that he wouldn’t do anything. His words are not to be trusted. But she trusts him. That if it’s too much, if he crosses the line in the sand between them, that he’ll stop. He always stopped when she asked him to. When she meant it, anyway.

Sighing, Max drops her arms and approaches the bed. Billy pats the spot to his right, putting her closer to the headboard and her nightstand. She should spite him and sit to his left, getting in the way of his dominant hand. That’s the only reason he always wants her on his right—because he’s left handed. Even when they’d walked together, he would dip behind her to put her on his right. And when she noticed, wandered back to his left, he grew annoyed with her and just walked in front to lead them back to his car, the trailers, wherever the hell they were at the time. All while Max grinned and chuckles under her breath about it. Because he’s a child. How long will his maturity last now?

Mindful of his teasing voice from the past—you’ll wanna keep your legs closed; I can see your panties—Max snatches one of her pillows to rest in her lap. Modesty preserved, she bends a leg in front of her so she sits facing him. Lady whines by Billy’s thigh, pay attention to me, but he shushes her and tells her to lie down. Billy’s jeans bend with him when he pets Lady for listening and being quiet. He always wears jeans that are too tight and make it look like he’s hard. Typical. It’s cooler here than in Salton City, so rather than bum around in one of his wifebeaters, he’s here in a short-sleeve button up. Baby blue. Such a soft color for him when he’s usually so bold. He looks good, like always. Max keeps her eyes on his, blue on blue, rather than ogle him openly like he does her.

“Why are you really here, Billy? It’s more than just you wanting to see me. This wasn’t part of you giving me time.”

He sits back up and twists to face her, too. He meets her eyes as easily as ever, but his right hand coming to rest on his thigh, sort of covering his pocket, catches Max’s attention. Her gaze lingers there even as he speaks.

“Talking on the phone is boring. So I drove up to see you and talk instead. If you didn’t want me here, you wouldn’t have dragged me into your room, so don’t make it out like you don’t want this.”

Sharp eyes snapping back to his, Max growls, “I brought you up here so my fucking Dad wouldn’t see you and come after you with a knife.”

Billy scoffs, “Let him try. Plus unless you told him, which I know you didn’t, he doesn’t know who I am.”

“Doesn’t take a genius to look at you and figure out you’re too old to be knocking on the door going, ‘Uhh, is Max here? Can Max come out and play?’” She pitches her voice low and winks big and obnoxious at Billy before resuming her stern resting face. “Yea, I’m sure that would have gone real swell. Plus? Tamara is here, and she knows who you are.”

Not that Billy is her step-brother. No one knows that but them. She’s going to keep it that way.

Billy just grins at her, ridicule bouncing right off his stupid, handsome face, and drawls, “Awww, I really am your dirty, little secret. I’m flattered all over again.”

He shifts closer, the rasp of his jeans on her sheets giving him away. Max hops back.

“You’re my dirty, little secret because I don’t want to explain to my dad how I ran around with a 24 year old this summer.”

Billy levels a dry look at her.

“Don’t tell me we’re back to that again. It’s way too late to be playing the ‘I’m 16’ card, Max.”

Her arms are over her chest again when she says, “Really should have been a big, red flag that you don’t care about that. Wish I would have listened to it.”

“But you didn’t,” Billy points out with a grin. He dares to scoot that much closer. Max’s remaining pillow at the headboard is against her back when she retreats. Billy pays no mind to her backing down, continues with his slick voice, “You’re the one who asked for reasons why you shouldn’t trust me.”

“That was then,” she insists. “I trusted you then. I don’t now. You ruined that.”

Billy’s grin flips into a scowl, and he leans out of her space. He doesn’t scoot back, but she can breathe again, feel her fingertips go cold from adrenaline.

“So if you don’t trust me because of that shit, then why do you pick up the phone every Friday? Why don’t you just tell me to fuck off, I can take a hint, Max. You keep answering me and you brought me up here. This hot and cold shit with you isn’t fun when you’re not playing around.”

“This isn’t a game!” She nearly shouts. The windows are open, though. Sound carries weird in the tight knit of the houses on her block. Someone outside might hear her. So, calmer, Max insists, “This isn’t a game, Billy. When I said I was never going to speak to you again? I meant it. I would have never spoken to you again if you hadn’t showed up here drunk in the middle of the night.”

“But you did. You did talk to me. You keep talking to me.” His left hand is flat in her bed when he shifts himself those last inches that separate them. Max’s back is flat to her headboard, only her bent leg keeping Billy out of her face. “Is this hot and cold shit all a part of you needing time? Cuz you said you didn’t wanna lead me on, but this right here? This is leading me on.”

He has her cornered, now. Because of course she’s been struggling with it. Because every fucking Friday when she gets off school, she just wants to skate home as fast as she can and be within ear-shot of the phone. Not exactly waiting for his call, because her pride won’t allow her to be so heartsick about it, but her heart always leaps when the phone rings. And when they talk, Billy stays mostly chaste. It’s small talk. How was school? How’s the group of kids who don’t like her treating her? The offer to teach her to throw a real punch stands, he’ll drive up here and show her. How’s his job going? Is it weird to live alone? Have Neil and Mom exploded next door? It’s painful and boring small talk, but Max always answers, is never the one to end their call. When Billy’s lewdness slips in, that just makes the calls more fun. She misses their banter. She never had that with someone before. Quick witted and dry like her. So yes, she still misses him.

“Max.”

She blinks hard a few times. He’s closer, finally in her space. His hand is heavy and warm where it sinks into the bed by her thigh. The left comes up, too, and the curl of his rough knuckles pets down from her temple, to the apple of her cheek, and then her chin. Her eyes are down, staring at his pale lips when he takes the point of her chin. A harsh breath rushes out of her as she tilts her head on instinct. She must have done this with him a hundred times. A thousand? She had never liked being kissed and kissing back until kissing him. Billy is too many firsts for her. He’s the first person to ever get her heart racing as his lips hover just above hers. Not from fear or nerves, no. Because they haven’t kissed since the morning it all ended. And she thinks about kissing him all the time. Still. Him being her step-brother hasn’t stopped her desire for him. Even though she knows it’s wrong. 

“Max,” he murmurs deep and purposeful on the edge of her lips. Watching her through hooded eyes as she struggles with herself. A soft smirk tugs at his mouth. Billy almost brushes their lips together when he says, “Miss my little red. Miss her a lot.”

It’s the most honest he’s ever been. Like the quiet tenderness between them when he’d admitted he knew what it was like. To be trapped and afraid. Eyes fluttering with his breaths puffing on her lips, Max wonders about that. Wonders about who held Billy down and hurt him like that. She never got around to asking, Billy never telling. Never figured out why he moved out of Neil’s trailer at 14, either. Maybe she’ll never know. It hurts her heart to think about it, so she just leans that fraction of an inch into him and inhales hard through her nose when their lips meet. They hold this kiss too tightly against each other for a breath, separate with their exhales mixing. His devil eyes have never been more intense than they are right now as they teeter on the edge of something. Outside, the world still turns. Kids still play. Her dad probably flips burgers as they hiss and spit on the grill.

Billy’s hands are in her hair and at her throat in the blink of an eye. She whines with her eyes flying wide open when he crashes into her, forcing her flat into the headboard. Small hands weave between them to push on Billy’s chest. Like always, he is warm, solid steel against her feeble strength. All the while, he kisses her and laps tiny whines from her lips, her teeth not letting him deeper than that. Max’s strength pushes at the warmth of him, his heart beating so hard under her palm. His kisses turn softer, pleading, just mouthy, lippy things that sweep her up.

At his chest, her hands twitch. They tense. Weaken. And then slide up to hold him around the neck. Drawing him in. Welcoming him to crush her to the headboard. It’s all the permission he needs as he threads his thick fingers into her hair to tilt her head exactly how he wants it.

When he goes to lap her open, her tongue meets his instead of letting him in. They groan as one just like that first kiss on the sectional. Max turning in his bold embrace and surging against him. These kisses now are not so frantic and uncoordinated. Because she knows how to do it, now. Knows how to meet him lap for lap, knows how to bob her head with his, knows how to lean into him and guide their kisses into his mouth. And he lets her take charge, cups the back of her neck in his big hand and keeps his mouth open wide for her. His groan is deep and rich around her, and Max gives it right back to him. He misses her, misses this. He still thinks of her as his little red. She hates how much that means to her. That he still wants her as much or more than before. And she wants to give it all to him again, more than before. She wants— 

“Max? Hey are you in here? Food’s ready.”

Tamara. Shit.

Max rips her mouth from Billy’s, slips a hand up, and slaps it over his kiss-bruised lips.

“Y-yea, I’m here.” Her voice cracks, though, and she has to clear it a few times to get it to work again. “I’m changing, had a little accident in the bathroom.”

A pause. Long enough for the roar of their breaths to deafen her. Billy is still warm and very much alive, skin humming under her hand. The bulk of him keeps her pressed flat to the headboard, just enough room for her to breathe against him. Their bodies brush with each in and out. Over the edge of her pinky smashed to Billy’s moustache, their eyes meet. Billy winks at her. Max rolls her eyes.

“I got blood in my underwear,” she explains while staring straight at Billy, eating up his frown under her palm. “Pad must have shifted or something.”

“Well shit, that sucks. You want me to grab a bottle of club soda for you? I’ll fill up the sink if you want.”

“No, it’s really bad, I’ll get it. Thanks though.”

Max doesn’t dare move her hand until Tamara walks down every step to the ground floor. All twelve steps. Only then does she sigh and sag down the headboard, lets her hand slip away from Billy’s mouth. Before he gets the gross idea to lick her palm to get her to give up. He’s done it once, much to Max’s disgust. Although she’d laughed about it, because Billy being gross is usually a little funny, too. The shock value. 

A curious lick to her lips reveals them to be tingly and numb like she knew they’d be. The scratch of his moustache while making out is like an old friend. She’s missed this, too. How close he stays even when they cool off, his hands having dropped down to hold her waist. He squeezes and pets her through her t-shirt even while frowning at her.

“What?”

Mouth twisting tighter, he grumbles, “Are you really on your period right now?”

“Oh my god, you are such a child.” Max rolls her eyes to the heavens again. “How could I forget how much of a boner killer that is for you.”

“It smells.”

“You think I don’t know that?” 

Billy just grimaces and looks away. Max’s pillow is smashed into her lap, covering everything. But she catches him glancing down anyway. The joke is on him, though, because today is her last day. He hadn’t noticed, wouldn’t if Max spat out something else to get Tamara to go away. She is simultaneously thankful and annoyed for that interruption. They needed to stop. She wasn’t going to jump into things with her father downstairs, entertaining her friends. Making out after that dry spell was nice, though. How quickly she forgot that viper tongue and what it’s capable of. Ardour thoroughly broken now, though, Max pushes once more on Billy’s chest. He backs off.

“You should go. I need to eat dinner and hang out with my friends.”

They’re still close enough to feel each other breathe. Not close enough for Max to see herself in Billy’s eyes as he watches her, frown persisting. It’s not about her period, though. She knows he doesn’t take being told ‘no’ well. All those times she’d told him to slow down, it was too much, to stop, come rushing back. He bowed to her will every time, though. With reluctance, with sourness, but bowed all the same. Swallowing her heart, feeling reckless and giddy, Max darts forward to kiss his frown. And then she bounds off the bed, is at the door and unlocks it before he even moves.

“Come on,” she insists. “I need to sneak you out so no one sees you.”

Billy does not speak until he is on one side of her front door and Max is on the other side. She goes to close the door, looking away from him, but he stops her with his hand flat on the wood.

“Wait.”

She shoots him a sliver of a glare. He meets her with all the seriousness he can muster. Max’s expression softens. When she’d needed Billy to be serious with her, he was. This is serious.

“I need to go, Billy.”

“I have one more thing to say, and I’ll go. I promise.”

Max tosses a look over her shoulder. They’re eating outside on the patio, her place waiting. Tamara may grow worried or suspicious and seek her again.

“Hurry up, then. Out with it.”

Billy’s upper lip twitches like he’ll snarl, but he contains it.

“I sold my grandpa’s trailer. He had a will made out my dad didn’t know about, and he left me everything.”

Lips parted, Max blinks at him. Genuinely surprised, just not understanding the reason for him telling her.

“O-okay? So if you sold the trailer, where do you live?”

Billy shrugs, jams his hands in his pockets. The right shifts around something. Max’s gaze flicks down once more to that movement. He has something in his pocket.

“You were right about Salton City. There’s nothing to do there, nothing going on. No future. The lake is drying up faster than the state can control it, and one day it’ll be gone and the dust will kill everyone.” He shrugs again, looks down his nose at her. “You were right. So I left.”

Now Max’s heart kicks into overdrive. Because she feels the thread between them stretched taut, about to break, about to change again. Just like every moment where the relationship between them was about to change. She just doesn’t know what he has planned, what’s going to happen. Distantly, she knows she’s close to the prowling thing in the shadows again. They’re near the divide between them again. She can almost reach out and touch it in the darkness, waiting for her.

Billy sucks down a huge breath, filling his tight shirt, and then pulls his hands out of his pockets. In the right, he dangles a key from a keychain, thrusts it at Max in the crack of the door.

“Take it.”

She shakes her head despite her right hand flinching towards it.

“What is it?”

Billy scowls at her, snaps, “It’s a key, just fucking open your hand and take it.”

She scowls right back at him, thinks about slamming the door in his face. But just like him showing up here drunk, a lost little boy asking her why she didn’t want to play anymore, his expression is broken. Cracked just enough for her to see the vulnerability. ‘Guys are all repressed jerkwads.’ So instead of biting his head off, flipping him off, anything, Max uncurls her arm from the door and holds her hand out. Billy drops the key into her little palm.

Max draws the key closer to look at it. It’s just a brass key like her house key. A charm dangles from the ring. A metal circle with the words ‘wild thing’ written in cursive. The words are painted red or the enamel is red. Max’s chest grows tighter, excitement and nerves filling her, when she looks up from it.

“So what does this go to?”

His thumbs are in his pockets this time when he shrugs. Sniffs and looks away from her, but his eyes zip right back over. Can’t help themselves, have to see her reaction for whatever bombshell he’s about to drop.

“It’s a key to apartment 801 at the Bay View Apartments complex a few blocks away. Don’t let the name fool you. You can only see the bay from the roof, and the door to the roof is locked with an alarm that sounds. Learned that lesson the hard way.”

Max’s hand tightens around the key. She… She thinks she knows what this is. What this is supposed to mean. But she wants to hear it plainly from Billy’s mouth. He’s always lying and twisting his words to be coy. She wants to hear it.

“Okay? I don’t understand why you’re giving it to me.”

Billy grumbles and throws his head back. When he rights himself, the blush she so rarely sees on him darkens the honey of his face. 

Teeth bared and so white, he snaps, “I moved here, okay? I towed my grandpa’s trailer to Indio, rented a pad in a trailer park for a month, sold the fucker to the management company, and moved here. I moved here for you, and that is a key to my apartment. So do you want it or not?”

A single bark of laughter pops out of Max. She scrambles with her free hand to cup it over her mouth to stop more from coming out. Billy’s mouth twists into something so sour she fears he’ll never be rid of the expression. But she schools hers, heart bouncing off her insides and beating so fast, and tries to regard him calmly. 

“Why do you want me to have a key to your apartment?”

“Because, Maxine,” he grinds out. “Either you want to do this thing with me or you don’t. You’ve known all along how you feel about me. You know right now how you feel about me and if it’s enough for you to keep the key. If you keep it, then you want this. If you don’t want this? Then give it back and I’ll never speak to you again.”

“Billy—”

“Right now. You know right fucking now if you want that key or not. So what’s it gonna be?”

She thinks back. To dusty, humid mornings. Kicking herself forward on her board and catching his eye as she rolled past. How he stopped in his tracks and looked at her every time. How deeply she wanted him, didn’t stop wanting him when he pet her hair while she slept, when he held her, when they kissed. And even after everything else beyond that. Oh, how deeply she wanted him. 

Lips parted around a breath, not sure what’s about to come out of her mouth, Max says softly, “Hurry up and leave before my dad sees you.”

She closes the door and locks it without another word. In her hand, Max clutches the key and its little charm so tightly that the words imprint on her palm when she opens it. She draws short, shaking fingers over the teeth of the key. She isn’t 100% sure where that apartment complex is. But she could find out. Insides so light and heart so wild, she wraps both hands around the key and squeezes it. She doesn’t mind the pain of the metal biting into her palm. 

All the windows are open on this beautiful day. It’s technically autumn, now. But summer persists here, so the breeze rolling in is warm and lovely. Distantly, the wind carries a loud cry. One of triumph. One of success. 

“Woo!”

Max has to bite back the wide grin that splits her face. She secrets Billy’s key into her pocket and joins her company in the backyard. There are late cook-outs happening all over the neighbourhood. Kids splashing in pools and screaming in their yards. It all passes over Max with a sigh, and she gives her own, private holler of joy. Billy’s key is heavy and warm in her pocket. A weight and heat she cannot ignore. A promise. 

Woo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a playlist for this fic. Not an actual playlist, since I don't have Spotify (and I don't know if all these songs are available on Spotify). But making fan OSTs back in the day was a way I interacted with fandom when I couldn't write for a ship. Thank you all so dearly for joining me on this journey. This is legitimately the best thing I've ever written so far, and I enjoyed writing it/reading it immensely. 
> 
> Playlist title: Endless Summer  
> Billy image song: Eros and Apollo by Studio Killers  
> Max image song: Hand in My Pocket by Alanis Morissette  
> Credits song: Hurricane by Amber Run (PLEASE listen to this song, my god)  
> Atmosphere songs:  
> Blessa by Toro y Moi  
> Nothing Else Matters by Metallica  
> Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood  
> Falling For You by Peachy  
> Do It, Try It by M83  
> Walkway Blues by M83  
> Cowards by Raleigh Ritchie  
> Don't Look Back (Rick and Morty)  
> Us by She Wants Revenge


End file.
